Of Mobsters And Men
by StitchAndRepair
Summary: The air was warm and humid, sticky and uncomfortable against Ian's sweaty skin. And Mickey. That fucker. He was laughing. It was the kind of laughter that Ian rarely got to hear, his face split with a wide grin, his eyes screwed tight, the sound something that Ian wanted to hear again and again.
1. Thor Is A Douchebag

AU, mostly. Some canon stuff - Karen and Lip happened. Karen had Hymie and fucked off. Lip's trying to get over that.  
Lip and Mandy had a one night stand a couple of years back and Mandy thought they were going to be more, whereas Lip just wanted sex - miscommunication led to both Ian and Lip getting a beating from the Milkovich boys and that led to Ian and Mickey happening.

Not too important for the fic, but always good to know.

Uh, I've took some minor characters from the show (Casper and Walter) and just made them into bigger characters for this fic.

Enjoy :)

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**Chapter One: Thor Is A Douchebag.**

"Yo, you think I could take that blonde guy?" Mickey asked. He picked up a handful of popcorn out of the bucket that was placed in the small, empty space between him and Ian on the Milkovich sofa. Kicking his feet up onto the table, popcorn spilling between his fingers, he laughed as Loki got Hulk-smashed into the ground on the TV.

"You mean Thor?" Ian asked, taking a pull on the joint held between his fingers. He swallowed back a smile at the unimpressed expression on Mickey's face, the one he always got when he thought Ian was being a know-it-all.

"That the guy with the hammer?"

"Yeah," Ian answered, distractedly. He tipped his head back, formed an 'O' with his mouth as he attempted to blow out smoke rings. He handed the joint back to Mickey, his eyes almost crossing as he focused on the smoke that he slowly released from his mouth. "And no, the guy's an actual God".

"He's not a God" Mickey protested, inhaling a lung full of smoke. He glanced over at Ian who gave up attempting smoke rings and blew the rest of the smoke from his mouth in one long puff.

"He's pretty much a God" Ian countered, with a lazy shrug. "He's got superhuman strength, lives for a few thousand years." He watched as Ian's eyes glimpsed back to the screen, roaming over Thor as he swung his hammer in fast circles above his head. A knot of jealousy twisted tightly in Mickey's stomach at the appreciative flicker in Ian's eyes.

"Whatever" he muttered, completely without any trace of a pout on his face. None whatsoever. He knocked his elbow accidentally-on-purpose against the popcorn tub and sent popcorn spilling into Ian's lap. "Still think I could take him."

Ian glanced down at his lap, now filled with stray popcorn, before he blinked up at Mickey. He cocked his eyebrows in a pointed expression. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose and just grinned at him as Ian's face grew more and more unimpressed.

Before either of them could say anything, Mandy came walking out of her bedroom, her heels clacking loudly against the linoleum.

"This going to work?" she asked, holding onto the wall as she straightened out her dress.

She was wearing a low-cut, tight fitting red dress and her highest heels. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her make-up all but non existent. She looked good. Mickey saw Ian open his mouth to answer, but found himself jumping in first, a harsh "no" leaving his mouth before he even realised he was speaking.

Mandy glared at her brother, before sighing. "No?"

"No" Mickey retorted, sinking back into the sofa. He wanted to watch the rest of his film in peace. "You look like a damn whore" he said with a mouthful of popcorn "Put on something else".

He felt Ian's eyes on him but Ian kept his mouth closed. Instead he just shrugged helplessly at Mandy when she looked at him, silently asking for his opinion. With an annoyed huff, she stormed back into her bedroom.

Ian promptly grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at Mickey's head.

"You didn't have to be an asshole".

Mickey just smirked at him before stealing the joint back. He kicked his feet against Ian's legs, knocking them off the table and on to the floor. "Get your feet off the damn table".

His eyes back on the screen, Mickey's smirk grew as Ian placed his feet back on the table, banging his heels down extra loudly against the glass, making a point.

Iggy came walking into the kitchen then. The boys could hear him howling drunkenly as glass bottles clanged together as he placed the bags on the kitchen table and walked out to them. "You bitches ready to party?!" He grinned, wide eyed, an intense look on his face.

"How much fucking coke you taken?" Mickey asked, side-eyeing his brother, his thumb absently tracing the rim of his beer bottle.

"Not nearly enough, man. You want in?" Iggy asked, holding up a half-full baggie. Mickey stood up from the couch and handed Ian his almost empty beer bottle with a loud burp.

"Fuck yeah."

#

Iggy had been talking about this party for weeks. It was being thrown by the Duncan's a few blocks over from the Milkovich house. Everybody in the neighbourhood had been invited. Sally Duncan was someone that Mandy had once been friends with once. But that was before she bedded all of Mandy's brothers and accused Terry of perving on her in the shower. Mandy hadn't spoken to her since, hadn't been allowed. Terry had backhanded her and told her to stay the fuck away from lying little snitches and Mandy had been too scared at the time to argue. She didn't even want to go to this stupid thing, but Ian had promised that he would tag along so, as always, she found herself going any way.

Plus, Sally had some rich cousin over in Lakeshore who was providing all the drinks. And it was the perfect excuse to find somebody to replace Kenyatta. She'd dated Kenyatta for the last month and a half and what an asshole he turned out to be. Cheating on her with the girls from her dad's spa whenever he thought Mandy wasn't home, even splitting her lip open when she tried to break it off with him. She was tired of fuckhead boys who thought they could treat her like a doormat.

But tonight wasn't about Kenyatta or the weird stirring she pretended she didn't feel in her gut when she was around Lip. It wasn't about split lips and broken hearts. It was about getting high with her best friend and moving on to somebody new, somebody better. Somebody that wasn't a total dick.

She entered the house with her brothers and her best friend barely a step behind her. The air was warm and thick around them, sticky with the smell of spilled beer and sweat. Her hair began to stick in sweaty strands to the back of her neck as bodies drunkenly began to fall into her, surrounding her as she moved through the house towards the kitchen. As she finally made it through to the almost empty kitchen, she clipped her hair up off her neck, leaving it a wavy mess around her head.

"Her parties always this fucking crowded? I swear like four guys groped my fucking ass on the way in." Mickey bitched, glaring back at the crowded living room. He flipped his middle finger up at somebody that Mandy couldn't see.

Ian was looking at Mickey and he let out a laugh that Mandy wasn't supposed to see, like he was on the inside of some joke that she didn't understand. And she didn't.

She jumped up onto the kitchen counter and kicked her legs out at Ian, jabbing him in the ribs just as Iggy came staggering into the room. Already more than wasted and his eyes bugged out from too much coke and speed, he ruffled her hair – a habit lost somewhere in her childhood that only resurfaced in moments of drunken affection - and stole a beer from the side before he headed back out to the living room.

Mandy ducked her head out the way of the cupboard door as she reached behind her to open it, looking for any stashed alcohol. The decent stuff was always hidden. She pulled open the fridge to her right and closed her eyes momentarily against the cold chill from it. She grabbed three jello shots from the shelf and handed them to the boys as Mickey placed a pill in her palm before dropping one in Ian's. They all downed them without a cheers and Mandy grimaced as the vodka jello heated her chest.

When it faded she wiped her mouth with the heel of the hand and kicked her foot against Mickey's thigh. "Don't take as many this time, assface."

"Says you" he snorted, his tongue darting out against the corner of his mouth, licking up a dribble of watery jello.

"I outlasted you" she taunted and Mickey twisted his lips as he looked at her.

"Beat Colin's record didn't I?"

"Yeah" she said sardonically, "for about 40 seconds before you hurled all over the kitchen floor"

"17 pills in one night on an empty stomach" Mickey yelled defensively.

"17 pills?!" Ian asked, "Isn't that..."

"You barely swallowed the last one" Mandy argued, "It was still whole when you threw it up"

"Bitch,you wish you could hold 17 pills"

"I'm not stupid enough to try too" she countered "unlike some people."

"What happens on 16 pills, before the puking?" Ian asked, eyes on Mickey all lit up like he was amused.

"He sits in the kitchen chair having a staring contest with the table mat for 6 hours"

"Oh, fuck you" Mickey snapped, despite the half smile on his face. His skin flushed pink and his eyes darted to Ian for less than a second and Mandy didn't understand when the two of them had become so friendly. Especially not to the point where Mickey actually gave a shit what Ian thought about him and his past screw ups.

"And a week long comedown, miserable as shit. Iggy had to shove a rubber spoon in his mouth to stop him from fucking up his teeth he was grinding them that hard"

"Whatever" Mickey's fingers tapped against his legs, like he was itching to get away from her and away from the conversation. "Like you can talk 6 pills and out. Were you even awake for half that stuff?"

Choosing to ignore him, she just smiled as she asked, "Didn't you get nightmares for like a month after that comedown?"

Mickey's mouth tightened and he held up his middle finger at her. He glared at Ian like Ian's whole existence offended him when Ian let a laugh slip out of his mouth.

Before anyone could speak a boy walked into the room, a sweet smile on his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, glued down with sweat and he looked far more sober than anyone else around them.

"Hi, I'm Casper. Duncan" the boy offered out his hand to shake. Mickey just blinked down at it and Mandy didn't attempt to hide her smirk. Ian returned the handshake with a polite smile,

"I'm Ian"

Ian nudged Mickey with his elbow and Mickey lifted his hand in a half wave, "Mickey"

Mandy leant forward from her seated position on the kitchen counter and extended her hand. Casper shook it with a friendly smile, his eyes lighting up with interest as he looked at her. His touch was gentle. His hand warm. "I'm Mandy"

She smiled as she pushed out her chest. Out the corner of her eye she saw as Mickey rolled his eyes, "gross" he muttered and pushed Ian towards the living room full of people.

#

Ian let himself be pushed out of the kitchen and into the living room. He glanced back just in time to see Casper lean in closer to Mandy with a warm smile on his face and ask, " Are you enjoying the party?"

"He seems nice" Ian offered and Mickey just shot him a look as he let go and pushed his way through the living room.

"Can we not talk about my sister getting a dick between her legs?"

"I was just talking about Casper." Ian answered with an amused smile. Mickey just picked up a half empty bottle of drink as they moved to find Iggy in the crowd.

#

"You think she's going to calm down about it before you go home tonight?" Lip asked as he and Kev rounded the corner. The pair had spent the morning cutting down all Kev's excess pot plants that he'd accidentally grown over the winter. Then they had had to head out to the ice cream truck, getting it ready to start selling again as the weather warmed up. Lip looked up at Kev who's eyebrows pinched together like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He let out a sigh and seemed to deflate with it,

"This is V we're talking about. This is worse than the stolen cop car fiasco of '06. God, remember that? Like I was supposed to fucking know it was a cop car. It was undercover"

"It had a big fucking cherry light in it, how could you not know?" Lip laughed and Kev's eyes went wide as he protested,

"It wasn't flashing!"

Lip pulled the cigarette from between his lips and shrugged, "She'll be fine, alright? It's just a bit of extra weed"

"A bit?!" Kev exclaimed, looking at Lip like he had just rode in straddling a bright pink unicorn, "Two extra plants is a bit, a quarter counts as a bit. What am I going to do with-"

"I already sold four plants" Lip interrupted, "Relax. Alright? I got another two to ship off next week to a professor at the college. Between the truck, the Alibi and Kermit we should be able to get rid of at least quarter by the time anyone gets suspicious"

Lip saw Kev's face freeze for a split second, his eyes stuck on something in the store window behind Lip. It relaxed after a moment, a look of relief washing over his features. Lip twisted his head and his heart stuttered as he took in the sight of Karen. She was home.

He saw a blonde ponytail, the back of a girl's head. She was small and slim, her petite figured covered in a Denny's uniform and apron. Just then she turned to face a customer and Lip felt his whole body unclench as he took in the girl's profile. Not Karen. He held in a sigh and dropped his cigarette to the ground.

He looked up at Kev, who's eyebrows were knitted together as he watched Lip, "Fancy a late dinner?"

Kev looked between Lip and the girl behind the glass in the Denny's uniform. He rolled his eyes and tipped his head towards the entrance.

#

Ian closed the door behind him, twisting the lock until it clicked. Mickey was already crouched down beside the toilet seat, racking up two lines of coke on the lid. Ian pulled him up by his arm, a wide grin on his face from the pill they had taken from Mandy a little while before. Usually Mickey pulled away when Ian made the first move. He liked to be the one in control, but times like this when Mickey's guard was down and he was relaxed and had a happy buzz, he let Ian take over.

Mickey met Ian's lips eagerly with his own, pressing hard in a bruising kiss. He placed three fingertips gingerly against Ian's chin. It was a contrast to his other hand that was fisted in Ian's hair, pushing their mouths closer together. Ian groaned into Mickey's mouth, already breathless. He pulled Mickey flush against him, slipped his hands under the waistband of his jeans until Mickey rocked against him. Ian pulled his mouth away from Mickey's, fighting back a smile when Mickey arched up on the tips of his toes to chase Ian's mouth.

Mickey smiled as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over a curve in Ian's no-doubt-swollen lip. "You see that blonde guy out there? Long hair like he thinks he's fucking Thor or something? Stupid fake God"

Ian laughed at the moody look that crossed Mickey's face as he glared at the door, "this going to become a thing?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, his forehead crinkling as he bent down. He pulled a bank card out of his pocket to neaten up the lines still waiting on the lid of the toilet. "I'm just saying" he started, standing back up and stepping close to Ian. "I could so take Thor." He held the credit card out to Ian, his lips parting as Ian leant forward and licked the remnants of the coke from the edge of the card. Ian watched as Mickey's eyes darkened as he watched Ian's tongue flick out over the plastic.

Ian smirked as Mickey stepped back, his eyes raking almost hungrily over Ian. He ran his thumb along the card where Ian's tongue just was and sucked the tip of his thumb into his mouth. Ian's breath caught in his throat.

"What makes you so sure?" he made himself ask, his voice cracking as Mickey smiled around the thumb in his mouth.

Mickey pulled his thumb out from between his lips, his eyes still on Ian's, before he wiped it messily against his hip and looked away. He bent back down to the toilet and without any warning, leant down to the white powder and sniffed. Ian watched him with a quiet calmness that warred with the tingling energy buzzing through his body. He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Mickey. At the lines and curves of his body, which had filled out and strengthened in the two years that they had really known each other. There was no signs of the young, grubby teenager that Ian had woken up by pressing a bat to his back.

The Mickey in front of him was older, his face and body had matured. He was different to the boy that had come barging into the Kash 'n' Grab looking for Lip all those years ago, ready to kill him for fucking around with his younger sister. It almost seemed like a different lifetime.

Mickey stood up then, his face screwed up as he rubbed at his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. He sniffed again and opened his watery eyes. "I'm a Milkovich" he answered, to the question Ian had almost forgotten he'd even asked.

Ian didn't respond, just crouched down and pressed a finger against his left nostril. He sniffed the coke, felt the burn against the inside of his nostril and the drip at the back of his throat as it made it's way into his system. Two years ago he would never have thought that he and Mickey Milkovich would've ended up here. Two years ago Ian was sporting a black and a swollen nose courtesy of the brothers Milkovich. It had been payback because Lip had been hiding from them after he'd told Mandy he wanted nothing more than a one night stand with her. And now they were... this. Whatever they were. More than friends. So much more.

Mickey had gone after Lip, left him battered and bruised. He had even stolen Lip's money – the money that the family had worked hard to collect for the property tax - and cell. After that Ian had seen red. In a moment of either bravery or stupidity, he had found himself breaking into the Milkovich house with a baseball bat gripped like a vice between his palms. He had pressed the bat into Mickey's back and woke him up, demanding all the money back.

Mickey had put up a fight, fought until Ian was breathless and aching. Somehow they went from fighting to fucking and Ian had fallen in love with the dimple at the base of Mickey's spine. With the small spattering of freckles that collected there like stars against his pale skin.

Somehow between months separated by juvie and ROTC retreats and arguments gone badly, they had made it. They were making it. He and Mickey were finally getting somewhere.

After every argument and fallout, during both of Mickey's stints in juvie and every harsh word that they ever exchanged, Ian had promised himself that he would never go back. He was done. He was nobody's warm mouth and he was nobody's bit on the side. But Mickey always came back to him, eyes full of apologies that he would never say, and he touched Ian like a dying man clung to life. Each return was different, better, and over time Mickey relaxed. They weren't quite official, but they were getting there. Mickey still wouldn't kiss him unless there was an excuse – he was high, he was apologising, he was drunk – but he didn't flinch away from Ian's touch any more. He didn't ignore Ian on the street when they passed each other. He allowed them to become friends.

The memories of how they used to be, of how far they'd come, swam through Ian's mind and he couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face. His fingers twitched at his sides with the need to reach out and touch as he stood up. Because he could do that now. He could do that here, locked away in some random bathroom in the middle of a crowded house.

Mickey's eyes were alight as he looked at Ian and the look on Mickey's face had Ian's dick twitching in his pants. Ian let a laugh escape his throat, "That makes you able to take on a demi-God?" because they were supposed to be having a conversation. Ian could absolutely do that without thinking about his dick. And what it felt like pressed between Mickey's thighs. Or against Mickey's hip. Or in Mickey's mouth.

Mickey raised his eyebrows, a grin split wide on his face and Ian realised that when he was as high as he was right now, his poker face was shit. "Yeah. That blonde fucker doesn't know fuck all about fighting dirty"

Unable to hold back any longer, Ian leant in and dragged his teeth over the pulse in Mickey's neck. He bit down hard enough to hear Mickey hiss before he sucked up a mark, his very own brand. "I think you could take him" he said, his voice sounding wrecked even to his own ears, before he nipped at Mickey's earlobe,

"You just saying that so-" Ian heard Mickey's breath catch in his throat and pulled his head back just in time to see Mickey's eyes slip closed. "-I'll get you off anyway Gallagher, fuck". Mickey rolled his hips forward and Ian could feel how hard he was against Ian's leg.

Ian leant forward enough so that his warm breath ghosted over Mickey's mouth, but he didn't touch. He just waited until Mickey opened his eyes with a glare of impatience before he pulled Mickey's bottom lip between his teeth and slipped a hand down the front of Mickey's jeans.

Mickey arched into the contact, always impatient, and let his eyes close once again. "Asshole" he muttered as a poorly hidden smile crept onto his face.

#

"So, uh, you... you planning on college or anything after high schoo-oo." Mandy cut Casper off with a kiss, her lips pressing roughly against his. His whole body went still and she felt his eyebrows rise up on his forehead as he pulled away from her. "Uh..." he stammered for a moment. His cheeks flushed pink in a way that Mandy had never found adorable on anyone before, but found she quite liked on him. Casper laughed nervously, his eyes turning soft, almost fond, as he looked at her. He ducked his head back in towards her, stopping only centimetres away from her lips, "This... this is okay?" He asked quietly.

Mandy answered by twisting her fingers in the collar of his shirt and pulling him even closer to her, kissing him once again. Casper's hands came up to cup Mandy's face and he held her so gently, so carefully, that all she wanted to do was press her cheek against his palms and soak up his comfort, his touch. They kissed until her lips tingled with a pulse of their very own.

He was different. He had a kindness in his eyes that Mandy had never seen, a genuineness that made her feel almost shy under his gaze. He kissed her like he wanted to know her,not just her body and what it could do for him.

"Want one?" She asked with a smile as she pulled a baggie of pills from her pocket, dry swallowing two.

Casper's eyebrows furrowed together. His eyes trailed along the column of her throat, as though he might be able to see the pills work their way into her system. He swallowed loudly, a nervous habit she realised, and drummed his fingers against his thigh. "Uh. Urm..." He stuttered, scratching at the back of his hair and pulling it up in every direction.

She could see the temptation behind his eyes, could see the urge to let loose and fit in and be part of her world. But she could also see his trepidation, his nerves at losing control of himself. She looked at him, took in his wide blue eyes and she worked a pleasant expression on to her face, a reassuring smile. She felt him relax under her gaze. Mandy licked her tongue against her top lip before placing a pill in the centre of it. Casper inhaled shakily as she leant forward and licked into his mouth, dropping the pill onto his tongue. When he swallowed, she kissed him and he kissed back with enthusiasm, his tongue battling against hers. Mandy stepped blindly backwards until she felt the cold, hard lines of the fridge freezer against her back. He moaned into the kiss as her nails bit into the soft flesh of his hips.

Casper gained confidence with each passing second. His hands daring to travel down her waist, his thumbs skimming just underneath her chest. His touch left an electric current under her skin that hummed as his long fingers moved over her.

His lips travelled along her jaw, pressing soft,wet kisses along the curves of her face before he moved down to her neck. Her heart beat harder against her chest and Casper placed his hand over it as if he could tell. She arched into his hand as his mouth pressed kisses along her collarbone. His tongue flicked out over her skin that glistened with a soft sheen of sweat.

His free hand cradled her hip, his thumb circling over the fabric of her top. He kissed upwards towards her mouth, finally pressing his lips against hers once again. Mandy guided his hand up her skirt. She felt heat uncurl in the bottom of her belly as his fingertips stroked along the soft flesh of her thighs. Just as his thumb stroked over the fabric of her underwear, he pulled away.

He stepped backwards, his whole face flushed and sweaty. "What, you don't want to?" She asked, screwing up her face in disbelief.

"No, no" Casper stuttered, "I, I do. Just... let's take it slow, okay?"

"Slow?" Mandy asked, as if the word was foreign to her,

"I wanna take you out" he offered, with a dopey but sincere smile on his face.

"Right now?" She folded her arms across her chest self-consciously and tried to wipe the frown from her face.

"Tomorrow" Casper laughed before he leant forward and pressed his lips against her open mouth. His thumb stroked along her cheekbone and Mandy felt herself fighting against a blush.

"Where?" she asked, hesitantly. Her voice sounded strange, quiet and unsure where she was normally so confident. She was always confident with boys, had been since she defeated Colin for the Ps1 control when she was barely out of diapers. But something about Casper shook her, stirred something in her that she hadn't felt before. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"We'll plan that tomorrow." He replied, kissing her cheek and taking her hands in both of his. "Let me get you a drink, some of the good stuff I hid in Sally's bedroom." He said, squeezing her hands before leaving her standing alone in the kitchen.

Mandy took a breath to steady herself and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Nerves that she didn't understand had her feeling on high alert, unsettled and out of place. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to come back. She tried not to feel completely rejected, tried not to remember the feeling of him pulling away from her. It had never happened before.

#

"Alright, thank you. I'll get that order to you as soon as I can" the girl said in a voice filled with false enthusiasm. She tucked her notepad into her apron and smiled at the two of them before she turned away. As she turned, her expression fell bored before she walked back over to the empty counter.

"So?" Lip asked Kev with a smile,"whattaya think?" He tipped his head towards where the waitress was now sat on a bar stool, typing on her cell and Kev just shrugged, looking over at the girl,

"Better than the alternative"

Lip's gaze fell to the milkshake in front of him. He twirled the straw between the strawberry goodness and pretended that his mind wasn't filled with memories of Karen. Of a train wreck, blonde-haired flame who had set him on fire before running away and leaving him burnt.

#

Casper had barely been gone two minutes when the sound of raised, angry voices travelled through the house. It was quickly followed by the sharp sounds of glass smashing and bodies crashing to the ground. Mandy had been to enough neighborhood parties with her brothers coked up to know that one of them was involved. And sure enough when she walked into the living room there was Iggy. He was on top of some guy she couldn't see, one hand screwed up in the guy's shirt, his other fist raised above him. She rolled her eyes at the mess around the brawling pair, just in time to see Iggy throw down his fist into the boy's face. It opened up a nasty looking gash on his eyebrow.

Blood splattered across Iggy's t-shirt and face and for a brief moment Mandy was frozen, rooted to the spot she was stood in. All she could see in her brother's expression, in the tight curl of his lip, was Terry. The unconcealed, wild anger on his face, the red blotches on his cheeks and the life in his eyes as he pummelled the guy beneath him. It was the most Iggy had ever resembled their father, and Mandy wasn't too proud to admit that it scared her.

"Mickey!" she yelled out, looking around at the now silent group of people around her, "Mickey get your ass in here!" the room was deathly silent except for the stereo stuttering from where it now lay on it's side on the floor and the grunts coming from the fighting boys.

Mickey walked into the living room then. He was laughing at somebody just out of Mandy's view, his clothes all twisted round his body as if he'd dressed in a hurry. Mandy knew that they all had to get out of there, before the police arrived or before any more fighting happened. Iggy had only finished his last stint with probation two weeks ago and the last thing any of them needed was for him to go back inside. She caught Mickey's eye, saw the wild, coked out look in his eyes that made him look manic and completely fucked. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was dishevelled. It was sticking up all around his head, as if somebody had been running their fingers through it. Seeing Iggy's eyes latch intently onto the beaten boy on the ground, ready for another round, Mandy let the thought go. Instead she tipped her head towards the exit. She ignored everyone's shocked whispers that started up around her now that the fighting was over. Ignored the annoyed grunts _another party ruined by the Milkoviches, typical _and went and found Casper in the crowd.

His eyes were wide in disbelief as if he'd never witnessed a fight so dirty before. Her stomach dropped wondering what he was thinking, what he thought of her. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She'd long ago given up caring what others thought of her family, but for some reason she cared what Casper thought. She didn't understand why. He looked at her then, his eyes widening, brightening as he smiled, realising she was already looking at him. Her heart raced at the sight.

She stepped towards him, moved closer until her leg was between the two of his. Her fingers tangled themselves in his shirt as she leant in and kissed him. She felt the stutter of his breathing, felt his smile widen against her mouth. He barely had the chance to respond before she pulled away, wearing a smile of her own "Come on. Let's get out of here" She said, pulling him along behind her as she made her way back through the crowd of people and moved towards the exit.

#

Lip was now sat alone in the booth, the fluorescent lights shining too brightly over his head. He chugged down the last of his coffee as the waitress came back over with a smile on her face.

He smiled back before he looked down at his phone as it beeped with a text from Ian:** Lvin the party. Cme to Mandys.**

"Your friend gone?" the waitress – Anna – asked, setting a dish rag on the table by Lip's empty coffee mug.

"Uh, yeah. Pissed off wife at home" he shrugged as if to say, you know how it is. And Anna just nodded as she piled the plates into her arms,

"Don't dine and dash, alright?" she asked "I've had it four times just this week, the boss is going to start docking me if it happens again"

"Sounds like you've had a rough week"

Anna scoffed as she wiped over the table, the plates balanced carefully on one arm. "I work the night shift in a restaurant that attracts drunks, truckers and high college students looking for a snack at 2am. Every week is a rough week"

Lip laughed and Anna smiled at him, no longer the falsely pleasant one she had been wearing all evening, but one that was more genuine. "Fair point" he scratched at the side of his head and looked up at her, "What.. what time do you get off?"

"I finish early tonight. You're my second to last customer of the night"

"That mean you're free after?" he asked, putting on a hopeful expression. Anna cocked an eyebrow like she saw right through it.

"It means I'm going to ask if you're any kind of sexual predator?"

He choked on air and ignored Anna's laughter. "Uh" he spat out a laugh of his own and scratched awkwardly at his chin, "Uh, no. No. Not any kind of predator"

"Got anywhere to go?"

"Party" Lip offered, thinking of Ian's text "Small thing a few blocks over"

Anna nodded, her eyebrows stitching together in thought as she adjusted the plates in her arms. "Give me ten minutes to finish up and get changed" and with that, she walked away before he could even answer.

#

"I fucked that kid up!" Iggy yelled to the sky, howling as he closed his eyes against the light of the moon. He stumbled backwards, his t-shirt brushing against the cherry of Ian's cigarette. Ian propped him up and Mandy curled her fingers tighter against Casper's. The air had hit all of them, and where it had sobered Mickey, Ian and Mandy, it seemed to have had the opposite effect on Casper and Iggy. They both swayed with the light breeze that swept through the alley as they made their way back towards home.

"You know who that kid was, right?" Ian asked and Mandy blinked hard as the pills she had swallowed earlier began to work their way into her system. She felt like a battery that had finally been placed on charge, her entire body coming alive. Her jaw started clenching on its own and she bit down on the inside of her cheeks against a gurn. She glanced up at Casper and saw his pupils were blown wide, a small ring of blue visible around dark black. He dropped her hand when he saw her looking and instead wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her in close to him. He kissed her head, his lips pressing momentarily against her hair and Mandy had to take in a gasp of air at the feeling. Nobody had shown her as much affection as Casper had tonight. With his genuine smile and lack of intent, Mandy ignored her default need to be suspicious. Instead she let the thought of Casper and his smile and his arm tight around her warm her chest.

"Yeah" Iggy snorted, almost falling against a dumpster. He glared at it before he moved around it, "A punk. Who I fucking owned"

"Yeah" Ian scratched at his chin before he handed his cigarette to Mickey. Mickey's eyes lingered on Ian after Ian had looked away. Mandy didn't understand the look that Mickey was giving him, had never seen such a soft look on his face before. "He's also Walter Roselli's nephew."

As they turned the corner at the edge of the block, everyone's eyes snapped up to Ian, "Yo, what?" Mickey was the first to ask. Mandy noticed that the soft look from before was gone, replaced with hard eyes and a clenched jaw as he took in the new information,

"Yeah" Ian answered casually, as he pushed open the gate and helped a laughing Iggy stagger through it. "Used to do ROTC with me till he started in one of Walter's businesses"

"Fuck" Mickey whispered, his voice nothing more than a croak. He stopped Iggy from falling up the stairs, grabbing at his t-shirt and pushing him back upright.

,

"Shit man, I just fucked up a Roselli kid?" Iggy laughed as he shoulder-barged his way through the unlocked door of the Milkovich household. "Well I better enjoy my last night on Earth, huh"

The stolen bottles of alcohol rattled noisily in their bags as Iggy stumbled over his feet to settle them on the heavily marked kitchen counter. He pulled the bottles from the bag and opened them one by one on the edge of the counter, smacking his hand down with a thump until the lid came off with a pop.

"You think they'll try anything toni—" Ian started to ask, before he was silenced with a wave of Iggy's hand. Iggy's greasy hair flopped forward and his dirt coated skin paled,

"Wai—" his voice cut off as he inhaled noisily through his nose,

"Oh god, you're not going to barf are you?" Mandy asked with a rankled curl to her lip,

Iggy straightened himself up after a long moment. His eyes were half closed and he laughed as he just shook his head and thrust the opened bottle into Ian's palm. The bottle, still cold from the ice bucket Mickey had stolen it from, sweated against his hand.

"Drink up, man. We got plenty more where that came from." Iggy's eyes were still half closed. His words were slurred and he looked so blissfully shit-faced that Ian almost didn't mind the waft of stale breath that hit him as Iggy slung an arm around his shoulder. After an awkward beat, Iggy grinned wide and drunkenly at him, "DRINK!" he yelled, lifting his own bottle up into the air and cutting himself off with a burp.

Ian didn't miss the tightness around Mickey's mouth as he eyed his brother's arm around Ian's shoulder.

"You're a fucking embarrassment when you're drunk." Mandy said, as if she wasn't subtly grinding her ass into Casper's crotch in a room full of people. Ian shot her a pointed look and she just sipped at her beer, hiding a smirk.

"Hey, heard there's a party going on here" Lip called out as he walked through the back door. He had a girl with him that Ian recognised from the Denny's a block over from his work. She was short and blonde with a falsely sweet smile and cold eyes. Ian barely acknowledged her, knowing that she wouldn't be around for long. Since Karen there had been a string of girls just like her – feisty and troubled. Ian wasn't sure if Lip was attempting to save the dark thing inside of them that he could never quite fix in Karen or if he was just trying to find a replacement for the one girl that ever managed to keep him on his toes. Either way it never seemed to work. The girls never lasted longer than a week.

Just then, Iggy shoved away from Ian and disappeared out of the kitchen. He was swaying on his feet, and Ian could hear curses and crashes as Iggy banged into things on his way to the stereo.

"Mandy" Lip greeted with a smile playing on his lips. Mandy's eyes stayed on Lip as she pulled Casper's arm tighter across her shoulder. His fingers ghosted nervously over the slither of skin showing as her top rode up. "Looking good"

"Not so bad yourself, Gallagher" Mandy said back. Ian noticed how dishevelled she looked, her eyes not quite able to focus on anything, her hair messy around her head. She was smiling though, a small smile that he probably wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't paying attention. She looked wasted and happy and so content. Ian just smiled back at her before he turned his focus to the kitchen counter, where Mickey was currently filling up shot glasses.

As if sensing Ian's eyes on him, Mickey arched his head up to look at him. He sucked his thumb into his mouth as he poured the last shot and kinked an eyebrow at Ian.

Before Ian could say anything Iggy was back in the room. The loud sounds of some heavy metal band that Ian hadn't heard before trailed in after him. "SHOTS!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he raised his beer in the air in a cheers. His skin was flushed and his pupils wide and Ian could see dots of white powder around his nostrils, "WHOOOO!" he cheered in Mickey's ear before downing two shots, one after the other.

Ian just shrugged at Mickey before picking up a shot and downing it himself.

"Yeah, I'll get me some of that" Lip said, close enough to Ian that he could just about pick up the words, "CHEERS!" he yelled, passing a shot to the girl at his side. He raised his shot glass in the air before downing it, wincing as it burned at his throat.

Ian looked over at Mandy and she was laughing, her body pressed into Casper's as she looked up at him. She traced her finger over the skin under Casper's eye and Casper was biting down on a gurn, his pupils completely blown. He looked anxious, unsure of the feeling rushing through him as the pills he had downed earlier took full effect. Ian wanted to laugh, but he knew that they all looked just as fucked as each other.

An elbow jabbed into his side and Ian turned to look at Mickey. Mickey's eyes flicked to Mandy, his eyebrows narrowing, before he looked back up at Ian. He handed Ian one of the shots in his hand, freshly filled. Without a word Mickey raised his glass at him and smiled before they both downed the black liquid. It felt too hot as it slid down his throat, the taste of aniseed thick on his tongue. But Mickey was grinning at him, a promise for what was to come and Ian found himself smiling back.

He had his brother and best friend with him and his almost-boyfriend by his side. They were nearly finished with school for another year and Ian knew, as the music pounded loudly in his ears and vibrated rhythmically beneath his feet, that for tonight at least, things were good.


	2. Heartfelt Apologies From Terry Milkovich

**Chapter 2: Heartfelt apologies from Terry Milkovich.**

"What you studying for, Lip?" Fiona asked, tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. It was a cold morning, despite the warm looking sun that peeked through the gaps in the curtains and the skin of her bare arms and legs prickled into goose bumps. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep, last night's eyeliner crusting in the corners of her eyes and mascara had begun clumping her eyelashes together, making it hard to blink. She got in from working at the club just after four and the routine was killing her. It was only her third night since the summer shifts at the club started, but like every year the first few shifts seemed to drag on as she tried to balance work and the last few morning school runs.

"Just reading up on some poetry" Lip replied, scratching at his head "I'm taking some kid's entrance exam"

Fiona glanced up at him, watched his eyebrows furrow as he focused on the words in front of him, "Isn't he a bit late?"

Lip sipped at the warm coffee in his hands before resting it on the table in front of him. He cradled the cup in his palm the same way he held his sippy cups when he was a toddler, the same way that Liam did now.

"_She_ has a January start" he said, looking over at her "Exam's online, pretty simple stuff"

"How much she paying you?"

A faint blush shadowed Lip's face for a moment before it was replaced with a small smirk that held stories that Fiona didn't want to hear, "She's.."

"Forget it" she cut him off with a gesture of her hand, "don't wanna know"

Lip laughed and Fiona grinned back at him, despite the headache brewing like a storm behind her eyelids. She closed the cardboard flaps on the cereal box and twisted the lid off the carton of milk, sighing as barely a dribble spilled out of it.

"Anyone seen my jeans?" Ian called out before she had the chance to complain. His sleep-rough voice travelled from upstairs followed by the loud slap of his feet as he bounded down the steps.

"Try the dryer" she said, running her cereal under the cold tap. She made a mental note to pick up some milk before the kids were back from school. Bread too. "I put a bunch of clothes in there before I left for work last night"

Ian came up behind her and stole a spoonful of her cereal before grabbing the carton of juice from the side and pouring some into a glass. Fiona eye-balled him and he just smiled around the mouthful of cereal, the apples of his cheeks forming. His freckles had started to reappear with the warm weather, it was a good look on him.

"Hey Liam look" Carl said from his seat at the breakfast table, "I'm Wolverine picking his nose" Fiona looked over at the table to see Carl with two bread sticks pushed up into his nostrils, his fists curled and holding the bread sticks between his fingers like claws.

Moving round to the table, she set down her bowl next to him and confiscated the sticks. Her lips quirked up into a smile as Carl huffed,

"Nothing goes up the nose" she said sternly, "Remember what happened last time?"

"35 minute nosebleed" Carl answered with a grin that portrayed his pride, and a nod that matched it. Fiona held the snot-covered bread sticks out in front of her with a grimace, before she broke off the snotted ends and put what was left back into the box,

"Yeah" she replied, wiping her hands on her shorts with a grimace "and five and a half hours in the ER"

Carl just grinned at her, "Totally worth it"

"Oh really?" She asked, with a hand on her hip and Ian snorted next to her as he gulped down his OJ.

"Yeah. Did you see the girl next to me?"

"Yeah, sure she thought highly of you with snot and blood pissing out of your nose" Lip said and Carl rolled his eyes,

"Whatever"

"The nose, the nose" Liam yelled out, banging his spoon against his high chair. They really should've got rid of the chair by now, but Liam had thrown an hour long temper tantrum the last time the topic was brought up and had refused to move from it until he grew too tired and fell asleep in it. Fiona walked over and tickled his sides before lifting him out of the chair. His palms cupped her face affectionately.

"That's right my little monkey, nothing goes in the nose" She blew some hair out of her face and settled Liam on her hip as he waved his spoon around wildly.

"Right kids I want you all at school today. No truancy and no fighting" she said pointedly, rubbing at Carl's stubbly head,

"Well what else am I supposed to do in school?"

"Try studying, bud" Ian clapped Carl on the shoulder as he walked round the other side of the counter. Debbie tossed him his jeans from the dryer as she rifled through it for a t-shirt and Ian just groaned as he held the bunched up denim in his hands,

"Still damp."

Fiona tilted her head at him, quirking an eyebrow and fought back a smile when Liam mimicked the gesture. "Try doing your own washing and they'll be dry on time"

"I've got nothing else to wear"

She frowned as she leant down and felt the fabric. Ian had already outgrown two more pairs of jeans just this month, as well as half of his t-shirts. Another growth spurt that they couldn't afford. "They'll dry" she offered, with a weak shrug, "don't worry about it"

Ian huffed as he slipped them on. He pulled his bag up onto his shoulder before he leant in and kissed Liam's hair, "see you after school little man."

Fiona watched as all the kids piled out of the house, all calling out goodbyes and promises to go straight to school and she let out a sigh as the door slammed shut behind Carl.

"Just me and you today then, huh?" she asked Liam and Liam bounced the spoon off of her head and laughed.

#

He walked into his father's office, the thick, silver chain around his neck hitting against his chest with every step. The entire house was silent except for his footsteps.

"Dad" He greeted with a warm smile, his arms gesturing wide. He nodded politely to the suited men positioned either side of his father. His dad was sat in his chair in front of his desk, both large and wooden, dark brown solid frames. When he was a kid he used to think it made his dad look like a king.

"My boy" His father responded warmly. He stubbed out his cigarette, pressing down twice on the citrus scented air freshener beside the ashtray, "What can I do you for?"

Moving to sit down in front of his father's desk, Walter sighed, "I just got told about our Ricky"

"What about him?" his father asked gruffly, a deep furrow between his brows that sagged with old age,

"He was at some party over at the Duncan place the other night. He got beat up pretty bad, pa"

"By who?" Caro, his father, demanded with a loud voice as Walter slicked back his dark hair, moving it out of his face

"One of those Milkovich kids"

His dad puzzled, mirroring Walter's gesture. He ran a hand through his grey, thinning hair, "Milkovich, huh?"

"Yeah. What's the call, what do we do?" he asked, rubbing his fingers along his chin. His father sighed deeply, scratching at his arm where, hidden under his suit, was the tattoo of the family crest. A blue shield with a knight's head on top, blue and golden curls fanning out around it, the name Roselli in a golden banner across the top.

The Roselli name hadn't started out holding much weight. They were a small family of humble means from a small town in Italy until Arturo Roselli made the decision to move to America. Now the Roselli name was worn like a badge of honor, a name to be proud of.

Walter Roselli was a good man from a good family. His father Caro was an even better man than him. They paid all their taxes, had good, steady jobs. They raised their children to know the difference between right and wrong, no matter how blurred that line may be. The family worked hard for what they had and they thoroughly enjoyed the fruits of their labor.

The Rosellis had come to America fresh off the boat back in the early 1930's, all the way from the mezzogiorno. Walter's grandfather originally planned to go to New York City. He had instead fallen in love with a Russian immigrant and decided to settle down in Chicago. He worked his way up in the city, starting out delivering parcels for a big name over in the West Side. He learnt English by listening to people in coffee shops and teaching his wife a new word, or a string of words, each day. Eventually, after years of hard work, he became a big name all on his own.

Arturo Roselli was a fair man. He never dealt a harsh hand until he absolutely had to. And he raised his children, Caro and his brothers, and grandchildren, Walter and his, with the same attitude. He made sure that they learnt a trade. Made sure they paid their dues in the family business, made sure they all proved themselves and pulled their weight. And until the day he died he had made sure that everything about the Roselli name was good and above board. He ran legit businesses that turned over a good profit. Arturo was a newsagent, Caro - Walter's dad - ran a car dealership and Walter himself was a liquor distributor. Mostly.

It was no big secret that the Rosellis had their fingers in a lot of pies around Chicago. They had investments in businesses all across town. Property developments and independent stores. A chain of launderettes and several small plots of land, as well as the liquor distribution branch. The Rosellis also happened to control a large portion of the drug trade in Chicago. They kept tabs on what came into the city and making a huge profit from their list of wealthy clientele. Everybody you would never expect was a secret cokehead; lawyers, high court judges, surgeons and police detectives. Everybody has their demons, their addictions. And in a city like Chicago where people kept to themselves and hurried about their days, in a city that could easily swallow you whole, it was a lot easier to hide them.

Arturo had always told Walter and his brothers that Chicago was the City of Devils. Demons weighing down on everybody's shoulders, casting their eyes to the ground. He would say it was a city that bred addicts and thieves and people so broken that they looked for anything at all to make them whole again. Temporary Band-Aids for gaping wounds. And Arturo had spent his whole life providing Band-Aids for the needy.

As the Roselli name grew and expanded, heavy with the history behind it, the Milkovich name began to creep up the ranks. It had crept up a lot in just a few short years. Terry's name was first heard when Walter was up and coming, a small name in a family of big names. Terry was young - seventeen with a year old son and a young, pregnant girlfriend who looked like she had barely grown out of her diapers herself. Walter's father had kept an eye on Terry as he smashed his way through the kneecaps of all the drug dealers on the South Side. He stole all their business and their clients until he was raking in more money than a boy from the South Side could ever dream. Terry was good at it too, smart. He knew how to make a good profit. And he kept his head down, never ventured further than he had to and he never crossed over into the Roselli's territory.

Walter could see a similar train of thought cross over his father's face. Caro let out a deep sigh, forcing himself to relax back against his chair "We've managed to avoid run ins with Terry and his boys for years. They're trouble. You know they're trouble"

When Walter was finally set up running a large part of the family business, Terry's name popped up again. The Costello brothers had tried taking over in the area where Terry dominated, murdered one of his own. Terry had fought back with more aggression than Walter had ever seen. Relentless and pounding until the Costello name was just dust scattered at his feet. The Rosellis almost had to step in a few times. But then Terry and his sons dealt with the situation and the Costello brothers mysteriously vanished.

Walter would have made a fuss about it, but after the Costello boys disappeared his sales went through the roof. Over the years Terry had cleared out a lot of the riff raff from Chicago, small time faces who thought they could have their run of things. It was always the people who brought trouble and police and suspicion and had the higher ups breathing down his family's necks.

Walter nodded, huffing out a sigh, tiredness settling in deep in his bones "Yeah, big trouble. Put the Costello boys out on their asses a few years back". His dad nodded his head, he remembered "Wasn't easy, but they're relentless"

They never intervened when Terry handled things in his own way. After all it saved Walter and his family a job, so they let him carry on and didn't fret about any losses.

The Milkoviches were always decent about business, despite their crude manner and violent tendencies. They did things a lot differently than Walter did, but they still did it well. It wasn't until Terry's wife died, shortly after the Costello boys went missing, that Walter and his family had to start watching Terry more carefully. He started smoking his profits, experimenting with the different drugs he was selling. He became even more violent, angrier and almost uncontrollable.

Reluctant to intervene and cause themselves unnecessary hassle, Walter left Terry and his boys to it. Trouble rarely made its way north enough to bother the Rosellis, anyway. They let them have their run of the South Side and carried on with their own business.

"Just... keep it simple, okay? Get an apology and let bygones be bygones" his father decided after a few moments in deep thought.

Over the years Walter and his father had made sure to keep their noses clean, stay above board and out of the way of the law. Terry had always been more reckless, he never followed any etiquette and he used whatever means necessary to get what he was owed. He was more trouble than he was worth, which was why - in this instance - they had decided to go about business differently than usual.

"You're sure?" Walter asked and his father blinked at him,

"I said so didn't I?"

"What about Ricky, he's pretty beat up?"

"Those boys aren't worth the hassle. If he wants to settle it with the kid that got him, let him do it on his own time alright?"

A simple apology from Terry and everything could be forgotten about. Business can resume as normal, no need for bloodshed and back home in time for dinner.

"Okay" Walter agreed. He stood up out of his chair and leant across the desk to kiss his father's cheek, "I'll head to the bar now, see what Terry's got to say"

After all, how hard could it be to get a simple apology from Terry Milkovich?

#

The sun was beating down relentlessly on everything today, too hot for the time of year. Mickey's clothes were clung to his skin uncomfortably. His whole body was layered in a sticky coat of sweat, his cheeks tinged red from too long out in the sun. He felt agitated, nerves frayed and on edge underneath his hot skin.

He hadn't bothered getting up until late that morning. He had instead laid in until the sun was coming in too bright and too harsh through his windows and his legs itched with the need to get up. He had walked for what felt like hours. Yet he still somehow found himself at the school, hiding out under the bleachers and texting Ian impatiently until classes broke out for lunch and Ian was able to join him.

"The Rosellis caught up with your brother yet?" Ian asked as he threw his bag to the ground, a cloud of dirt flying up as the bag collided with the parched, dry mud. Ian sat on the ground beside him, dust and dirt clinging to his clothes and sticking to his sweat laced skin. He leant his head back tiredly against one of the blue bars and Mickey rubbed at his nose as the dirt cloud settled once more around them. The air wasn't much cooler under here, not even in the shade. The sight of Ian's pink cheeks had Mickey's skin flushing with extra heat. His mouth went even drier at the taut, pale flesh of Ian's exposed throat. The agitation curling tightly in his stomach unwound and gave way to something closer to frustration as he fought back the urge to run his tongue along the sweat dampened skin.

"Na man" he replied as casually as he could, after clearing his throat and looking down intently at the ground beneath him. "Been pretty silent. Think he's starting to freak though, worried they're planning to jump him or some shit"

"Think they will?"

"I don't know. Shit" Mickey ducked his head slightly, feeling Ian's eyes on him. It was an innocent look, just a questioning glance, but Mickey's nerves were too busy jumping around under his skin to pay attention to it. It seemed they were like that every time he was with Ian these days. Fuck whatever that meant. "They're not as old school as they used to be" He said, forcing himself to look up and meet Ian's eyes. "y'know Ricky and his cousins spray painted dicks all over a store the other day? Just 'cause they couldn't get served"

"What about the older guys? Walter?"

Mickey shrugged. His expression was purposely blank like he didn't care, but he knew the teeth marks on his bottom lip betrayed his attempt at nonchalance and paraded his nerves for Ian to see. "Dickhead should have known what he was getting himself into"

"I asked Kev" Ian confessed. He squinted his eyes against the sun as it peeked through the bars and eliminated the shadows where they were sat. "nobody's been around the bar yet looking for you guys"

"You asked Kev?" Mickey asked, eyebrows darting up on his forehead,

"Yeah"

"What are you my mother?" Mickey replied with a huff. He bit the inside of his cheek at Ian's eye roll and put up his hand to block out the rays of the sun,

"Shut up" Ian groaned. He kicked his legs out wide in front of him, stealing the joint from between Mickey's fingers "I was just asking, it came up"

"Oh, it came up?" Mickey snorted, turning to look at Ian, amusement written across his face,

Ian smirked at him then, the same knowing smirk he always got when they were high. The one he always wore when he knew Mickey was high enough that he could get away with stuff . He leant in close, his head blocking the sun from Mickey's eyes. He pulled Mickey's bottom lip between his teeth and dug his fingers into the cotton covered flesh of Mickey's thigh.

Mickey could smell Ian's body wash, could taste smoke and ash and weed on Ian's lips. He swallowed down a groan as Ian applied more pressure with his teeth. He found himself leaning into it for a moment before he realized where they were, how public they were. He pulled away from Ian, the sun momentarily blinding him as he jerked his head away. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, feeling the indents from Ian's teeth and flipped him off. He shoved him away, ignoring the tug pulling at his lips that threatened to turn into a grin,

"Shithead, don't do that"

He didn't bother saying anything when Ian just grinned and leant back against the railings, taking another pull on the joint.

Silence settled between them as they smoked. They listened to nothing but the sounds of the people on the school field and the steady inhaling and exhaling as they shared the joint between them. Mickey closed his eyes, relaxed in a way he hadn't felt for a long time with the sun warming his face and the calming heat from Ian beside him.

Minutes passed in a comfortable quiet. A calm washed over Mickey. It made him think of those few minutes before you fall into a deep sleep. When your entire body is so relaxed and you feel so content that you don't want to move a muscle in case you disturb the mood.

The mood ruiner, as it turned out, was little bratty sisters.

His eyes shot open as he heard the squeak of a hand sliding over one of the bars, the scuffle of footsteps on the dried mud on the ground. He blinked over at Mandy, his eyes squinting in the harsh sunlight. She grinned at him with too much teeth as she jumped over one of the bars and came to a stop at his feet. She leant down and plucked the joint from between Ian's fingers and kicked too hard at Mickey's shoe,

"Thought I'd find you two dorks under here"

She took a pull of the joint and narrowed her eyes at him in an unspoken challenge. Mickey just glared up at her as he dug his fingers into the thirsty ground between his knees.

"Why you so happy?" Ian asked, his voice low and lazy from too much weed. His face scrunched up against the light as the sun rays moved across his face,

"Because..." she teased, looking down at him and shooting him a small smile, the ones she only ever saved for him. She blew out a lungful of smoke, "I got another date with Casper"

"The fuck you wanna date a douche like that for?" Mickey asked as he dragged his thumb across his lips. He absently traced over the skin where Ian's teeth were just minutes before. Out the corner of his eye he could see Ian's face flush pink, his gaze lasting a few moments too long before he dragged his eyes away.

Mandy curled her lip at him then, kicking at his ankle and Mickey just grunted in response. "Because he's nice, asshole" she said with a sneer like she thought the word was foreign to Mickey. He ignored her and closed his eyes as she looked over at Ian, "He brought me a new lipstick and some chocolates yesterday"

"In exchange for a blowjob ya mean?" Mickey said, his eyes still closed, and he felt the air shift as Ian leant over and punched him in the chest. A dull ache radiated across his breastbone in the shape of Ian's fist. He blinked his eyes open and slapped Ian's hand away with a snort and tried to ignore the drop in his belly at the sight of Ian's smile,

"Shut up Mick" she bit out. Mickey raised his eyebrows at her, questioning the sudden look of insecurity that battled its way onto her face. "He hasn't even kissed me since the party. S' weird. Like he wants it to mean something or some shit"

"Good" Ian said with a smile, because he would. He lifted his arm up and gestured for the joint and Mickey huffed out a sigh, wanting to go back into the peaceful bubble he was in before. He watched as his sister handed the joint to Ian, his fingers barely touching hers before Ian was pulling away. Mickey spat on the floor between his knees and ignored the face Mandy pulled at him. She tightened her bomber jacket around herself with an uncertain look,

"You think so?"

"Why do you even like that dick?" Mickey asked, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "Pretentious fucking asshole, thinks just 'cause he knows someone on the South Side means he's one of us"

Mickey screwed his eyebrows up at the sudden burst of laughter that that escaped Ian, "What?"

"You hate everyone" Ian stated and Mickey's face screwed up even more,

"So?"

Ian's smile widened on his face and Mickey fought the urge to roll his eyes at it. "So some Lakeshore kid comes along and suddenly you're quick to defend the South side?"

Mickey turned his head to properly face him, ignoring the amused smile on Mandy's face, "Oh, so you like him?"

"Not what I said" Ian answered with a knowing smile, and Mickey bit back an annoyed grunt at letting a slip of jealousy show.

He distracted himself by avoiding Ian's eyes and his stupid smile. Instead he leant in and snatched the joint away from Ian. Only when he brought the joint to his lips did he meet Ian's eyes, a smug look on his face like he'd won something, "shut up then"

He didn't bother dragging his eyes away at the sound of Mandy's sigh, "You guys are idiots. I got to go - Cover for me in English?" she asked and Ian turned his head away from Mickey to look up at her, a smirk growing on his face.

Mickey raked his eyes over Ian's profile once more. Freckles that had begun to disappear with age were starting to appear again under his flushed cheeks from too long in the sun. He looked up at his sister, following Ian's line of sight.

"I think they stopped expecting you turn up to English class about a semester and a half ago" Ian said and Mandy just shrugged,

"Well good" she replied as she reached down and stole what little was left of the joint. She lifted herself over a bar and ducked out under the bleachers before Mickey could even protest.

He let out a breath and sank further back against the bars, fingers drumming restlessly against the ground. He turned his head and saw Ian looking at him, green eyes lit up by the sun. Mickey ignored the heat inching up his neck, flushing his face, and instead threw a clump of dried dirt at Ian's chest. He just laughed at the bitchface Ian pulled in return.

#

"Hey Walter" Kev greeted with a wide grin. "Don't see you round these parts much any more." Walter closed the door behind him instead of letting it slam shut on it's own. He approached the bar with a friendly smile and Kev poured him a shot, "on the house"

Walter lifted the shot glass in a thank you and downed it in one. "Got business to do" he replied, dabbing a finger against his mouth before flicking out the jacket of his suit as he perched on a bar stool. "You know how it is"

Kevin watched for a moment as Walter glanced around him. He watched the patrons of the bar with a quiet confidence and an assessing eye. He seemed to absorb every detail as he peered around the room. It was only once he had looked everywhere and seen everyone that he turned his back to them and sat facing the bar.

"Oh yeah, something up with the order?" Kev asked with a frown, "Payments should be through by now"

"No, no" Walter answered with a gesture, "Not that kind of business Kev, don't you worry about it" He cleared his throat and sat up straight on the stool, "You uh, you seen Terry Milkovich?"

Kev paused, looking up at Walter and the serious expression on his face. Pulling his hair away from his face, he asked,

"Terry? Everything okay?"

Walter shrugged nonchalantly, even though the gesture did nothing to calm the sharp twinge in Kev's gut, or appease the twisting feeling that something was brewing. "Just some family stuff. When can I expect him?"

"Uh... uh, any minute now. But..." Kev sniffed, cleared his throat. "Listen, if it's going to get a bit Million Dollar Baby in here..."

Walter held up his hand again, a frequent gesture it seemed, shook off Kev's words. "No need for that. Just getting what I'm owed. No trouble Kevin, scout's honour"

Walter smiled at him, the tan skin around his eyes crinkling warmly. Despite the smile Kevin felt his stomach drop like lead.

#

Lip let out frustrated sigh as he rifled through Ian's side of the room. He'd been looking for some deodorant for over half an hour and couldn't find any anywhere. He knew money had been tight lately, but to skip on buying deodorant? It was a joke.

He kicked at the stiff drawers beside Ian's bed until the top drawer popped open. Instead of deodorant he found a picture sat on top of Ian's neatly folded shirts. It was taken just over two years ago, a picture of him, Ian and Mandy. It was the night after Lip and Mandy had first slept together, when Mandy thought they were something and he hadn't yet told her that they weren't. Lip had seen the picture a thousand times, had laughed at the dopey, drunk expression on Ian's face and poked fun at himself and how dishevelled he look. But there was something different about it now, something he had never noticed before. He actually looked at it this time, saw Mandy's smile and the happy look in her face. There were no traces of a scowl, no hardened edges, she was completely soft in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. It was a look he had long forgotten.

Lip, squatting uncomfortably by Ian's bedside, found himself smiling at the picture, at the memory of their night together. It had started as harmless flirting, to make himself feel better after Karen's rejection, but as the night went on he found himself laughing and joking and enjoying Mandy's company far more than he ever thought he would. Their night together had been great; passionate and bruising and exactly what he had needed.

But then morning came and a text from Karen telling him to come over, and he had pushed all thoughts of Mandy to the back of his mind. He kissed her and left her there in her bed.

Two years ago Lip chose Karen over Mandy and, not for the first time, he wondered if he had made a mistake.

"LIP!" Debbie yelled from the hallway, shaking Lip back to the present. "Come on. We're going to be late!"

"Coming, Debs" He called back before rooting around in the back of the drawer and finding a dust covered stick of deodorant.

He closed the drawer on the picture and left the room.

#

"No trouble guys, take it outside. Where the fresh air will sober everyone up. Back to nature, just like the guy upstairs intended" Kev said as calmly as he could. He was stood behind the bar and the relaxed expression he forced on his face was betrayed by the stuttering in his chest as Terry and Walter stood nose to nose opposite him.

"Baby I don't think cement, glass windows and drunken hobos counts as nature" V commented, sat on a stool with one leg crossed over the other, picking at the nuts placed in a white dish in front of her. She watched the men in front of her the way somebody watched a film at the movie theatre.

Kev looked back at the two men squaring up to each other. At Walter, who was the the epitome of calm except for a tick in his jaw that made Kev jump every time. He'd seen and heard enough about Walter Roselli to know not to fuck with him. Three of his old friends have disappeared after insulting a Roselli. Then he looked at Terry, who's mouth was open in a teeth clenching sneer. His eyes were steeled and his fists were closed with white knuckles at his side.

Kev threw his dish rag over his shoulder and crossed his arms as he watched the silent, glaring exchange between the two men. It would've been comical if it wasn't so terrifying.

Terry's cousin came up by Terry's side with hunched shoulders. He handed Terry a pool cue and Kev groaned. He didn't know how it had escalated to this – Terry had been in the bar less than five minutes. Walter had offered to buy him a drink, had spoken calmly about the situation and how he wanted it resolved. Terry, predictably, hadn't reacted to well.

"One more chance, Terry. I don't want any trouble about this"

Terry just twisted the pool cue in his hand and tightened the mean expression on his face.

Walter, after a beat, just nodded his head once before leaving the way he came in.

Kev's body sagged with relief as the tension diffused in the room.

After a beat, Terry let out a cruel laugh. "Fucking punk thinks he can come in here like he owns the damn place"

For the second time today, something sharp and dangerous twisted in Kevin's gut.

#

"Abraham Lincoln?" Mickey asked. It was the stupidest damn name he'd ever heard. "Who the fuck is Abraham Lincoln?"

"You've never heard of Abe Lincoln?" Ian questioned. He chucked the DVD case on to Mickey's lap and crashed down beside him on the sofa.

Mickey studied the case, squinting at the tiny words on the back cover and let himself sink into the feeling of warmth he got from having Ian beside him. They finally had the house to themselves – Mandy out with Casper, Iggy and Colin out doing whatever it is they do, and Terry happily occupied with one of the girls from the spa – and Ian had insisted on watching this damned movie about some guy with a stupid name and an even stupider hat.

"Why the fuck is his hat so big?" he asked and he looked up to see Ian smiling around his beer bottle, no doubt at the expression on Mickey's face.

"He was the president until like 1861" Ian answered, like a smart ass "he got shot in the head at a play"

"Probably cause the guy behind him couldn't fucking see past his stupid hat"

Ian snorted and kicked at Mickey's ankle, "He led the US through the Civil War, he abolished slavery"

"He abolished slavery?" Mickey asked, flipping the case over and momentarily regretting that he dropped out of school after his second stint in juvie. It wasn't often that it happened, but every now and again, something was said that made him feel dumb. Especially when Ian's genius brother was around rambling on about geometry theorems and codes and robotics and whatever the hell it is he spoke about. Mickey knew he wasn't thick, knew that he knew enough about a lot of things. But sometimes he wished he were a bit more school smart and not just street smart.

"Yeah" Ian answered, oblivious to Mickey's internal frowning, "emancipated all the slaves. Guy was pretty awesome"

"Whatever" Mickey retorted loudly, sipping his beer, "still had a shitty taste in hats"

"Are we watching this?"

Mickey huffed and wiggled deeper against the couch as the opening credits began to appear on screen. He took another long swig of his beer and sighed. With Ian's thigh pressed up against his, Mickey felt like his leg was on fire. Like there was a current running through him, sending shocks to each and every nerve,keeping them all on high alert and aware of every subtle movement. The leg not touching Ian began to jiggle as a surge of impatience ran through him.

He glanced over at Ian, blowing smoke out of his nose and Ian looked back at him, his mouth twitching as if he could sense what Mickey was feeling. The fucker.

Mickey cracked his neck, went back to watching the screen as a flashback of some kind of battle played noisily.

He peeled the label off of his beer as he watched two soldiers talk about something he couldn't care less about to some old looking guy sat behind a desk.

Mickey sighed, scratched at the back of his head as they spoke, a conversation he wasn't listening too.

He kicked his foot against Ian's calf playfully, his dick twitching in his pants. When he glanced up at Ian, Ian was smirking at him.

Mickey leant forward and placed his beer on the coffee table before turning and looking at Ian, raising an eyebrow at him.

Ian's face was one of fake innocence and Mickey just rolled his eyes before dropping to his knees on the floor between Ian's legs.

He ignored the muffled sounds of Ian's laughter and instead bit down on the soft, pale flesh of his thigh as he pulled his jeans down ungracefully down his legs.

#

"I just... I don't know" Lip said as he dropped another rubbish sack full of weed into the back of Kev's truck. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and looked up at Kev as he came through the back door of the bar with two bags of weed resting on his shoulders

"I remember you as the too smart twelve year old who wanted to talk about robots and settle down with Jessica Alba and a bunch of kids" Kev replied, patting the bags of weed as he dropped them into the truck.

"It was Jessica Biel and that was before I grew up and realised that marriage was just a piece of paper and settling down means one person" Lip wiped at his mouth and fingered the cigarette behind his ear, making sure it was still there. "For the rest of my life"

"What happened with that blonde girl from the other night?" Kev asked as they headed back inside, down to the basement. The lights fizzed and crackled above their heads, flickering yellow as they both loaded up with even more black bags.

"Didn't work out" Lip answered simply and Kev just looked at him like he hadn't expected any other answer.

"What was wrong with this one?"

"Nothing" Lip shrugged, "Just wasn't for me" Truthfully she had left him two messages asking for a repeat performance and he just hadn't replied. Couldn't bring himself too for reasons he didn't want to think about.

"What about Mandy huh?" Kev asked as he steadied himself on the steps as they walked back up to the truck. "I've seen you eye balling her for a while now"

"I've been... thinking about it" He answered, honestly. He knew that the last few months he had been walking round with his head up his ass. He knew that Karen was gone, probably for good, and for some reason he couldn't let go of her. He found solace in girls that reminded him of her, had – until recently - found a twisted kind of pleasure in dropping them like she had dropped him, ignoring them and avoiding them until eventually they gave up. He knew he needed to change.

"Yeah? You do remember the beat down you got from her brothers right?"

Lip just shrugged. After he had gone back to Karen, chosen her and pushed out any thoughts of his night with Mandy, Lip hadn't given her a second thought. After his run in with her brothers he was convinced he had made the right choice, even spent months ignoring Mandy when she came by the house for Ian. But sometimes at night, even with Karen, the thought of her would keep him awake – the first time she spoke to him after she'd moved on and gotten over her anger at him, how her legs looked in a particular skirt she wore, how she matched him shot for shot and spliff for spliff and didn't seem affected while he was close to passing out. Little things, little moments played on his mind. Then Karen left and Mandy was there with a joint ready for him and no pity or sympathy in her eyes – he had needed her then and she had been there. Her and Ian filled up the time that he would have otherwise spent with Karen and somehow he and Mandy managed to become friends again.

"She's not your usual type" Kev said and Lip just snorted.

"No, my uh, my usual type gave birth to someone else's kid and fucked my dad. My type isn't good for me"

Kev dumped the bags into the back of the truck and worked out a kink in shoulder while he caught his breath. "So you thinking a casual thing with Mandy, or?"

Lip wiped sweat from his brow with his t-shirt and glanced up at Kev. "No, no. I was thinking we should get real serious, real fast. Pop out a few ghetto babies, settle down right in Shithole, Chicago and live as miserable as all you bastards"

"You're hilarious" Kev said dryly, pursing his lips for a moment.

"Na man" Lip shook his head, "Fuck jumping down that rabbit hole again" he said, a lot more bitterly than he intended. He could taste it, anger, bitter, resentment, thick on his tongue and it took all of his strength to swallow it back down..

Kev let out a sigh and wiped away a bead of sweat that trickled down his nose. "I think Karen messed you up bad" and then he walked back through the door to the basement, leaving Lip staring after him.

#

"Be careful, Carl" Ian called out from where he was sat in the pool. Carl ignored him, just zig-zagged his skateboard along the pavement before speeding along, zooming up and jumping off his home-made ramp and Ian winced as the ramp teetered from side to side after Carl took off.

"He's going to break an arm" Mandy stated, right before she smirked and splashed water at Ian. His vision blurred with it and he felt the water burn at the inside of his nose. He spat a mouthful of it out, blinked the water out of his eyes and snorted out what was left up his nose. Mandy pushed away from him, edging round the pool but he was too quick.

He wrapped her in a headlock and she laughed as he tried to wrestle her under the water. She kicked her legs out at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing as hard as she could as she fought to keep her head above the water.

"Watch it!" Debbie spluttered from the edge of the water as Mandy's arms flailed around as she finally went under. Ian laughed as Mandy resurfaced and Debbie flicked water at them.

"Yeah. Watch it!" Mandy teased and Ian narrowed his eyes at her as Carl skated past them and up the ramp once again, muttering complaints about the water now soaking the pavement where he was trying to skate.

"Be careful bud, alright?" Ian called out to him and Carl just nodded his head, not really paying attention.

"Ey Mandy" Lip called as he came jogging through the back gate, cigarette perched between his lips.

"Yeah?" she asked, wiping away her smeared eyeliner and pulling her dripping hair up into a clip.

"That junkyard over on Cottage Grove still belong to your dad?" Lip asked and Mandy glanced at Ian before frowning back at Lip,

"Most of it, yeah. Why?"

"The cars he's fixed up - Tommy overheard some guys say that all the fixed up cars have been smashed to fuck"

"What." Mandy exclaimed more than asked as she stood up out of the pool, her bra and skirt clinging to her body and dripping against the floor as she climbed out. Ian stepped out right after her and handed her a towel. She wrapped it around her waist as she pulled on her vest, soaking it against her wet skin.

"The ones your dad's been fixing up, right?" Lip asked and Ian would've rolled his eyes at the interested way his eyes looked Mandy over in her wet state, but he didn't think the situation called for it.

"Yeah" Mandy replied, "Fuck. Does my dad know?"

With a shrug, Lip answered "He was headed towards the Alibi when I was coming here. Probably knows by now"

Mandy sighed and dried her legs as best she could with the towel, "Shit. Know who done it?"

Lip offered her what was left of his joint, she refused, and nodded, "Rosellis are apparently pretty pissed"

Mandy glanced back at Ian, eyes wide as she chewed on her bottom lip. The Rosellis. It had started.

"Let's go find my brothers" Mandy said and Ian nodded quickly, grabbing the towel from her and rubbing his hair with it before resting it on his shoulder.

Ian handed Lip the towel as him and Mandy hurried off out the gate.

"I'll just... wait here, then" Lip called after them.

A loud crash came from the back yard and Ian turned back to find Lip rolling his eyes at the sky as he faced Carl who lay in a heap on the floor, elbows and face grazed, ramp collapsed.

#

They ran from the El, down the steps and across the street as fast as they could. They ran until they could see the shadowed figures of all the Milkovich boys standing, silent and still, watching.

Their backs were to him and Mandy and something about the stillness of them made a thread of worry wrap tight around Ian's chest.

Mandy came to a halt, glanced up at Ian with concern and confusion etched on her features. He lifted his shoulders, a minute shrug.

"Dad?" Mandy asked as she stepped closer to Terry and her brothers. Nobody moved, nobody said a word. They just watched.

Ian joined Mandy, stood by her side. He looked up and that's when he saw it. Grey clouds of smoke billowing into the air, a faint orange glow flickering, lighting up the dark sky. He listened and heard the faint crackling sounds of a fire.

Walter hadn't just smashed up Terry's collection, he'd also set fire to it.

"Shit" Mandy whispered, as they watched the cars burn into nothing.

Ian glanced up at Terry and watched the reflection of the fire dance in his eyes, bright and fierce. His face held a level of anger that Ian had never seen and a shiver ran down his spine at the sight of it.

He looked at Mickey and Mickey, nostrils flared and posture tense, looked back at him for barely a second.

But it was enough. It was enough to know that Mickey had the same thoughts as him. The thought that this was just the beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Apologies. The next chapter will be better!**

* * *

The wind whipped up around them, whistling through the open doors of the van and making it teeter from side to side. As the cold air brushed over his skin Mickey cursed under his breath, truly regretting not bringing out a jacket with him. Not that he'd ever put voice to that. Mandy and Ian had bitched at him all day about remembering to take a jacket. They talked about the upcoming, overnight storm and how they were spending it curled up on the Gallagher sofa watching Ted and getting high, while Mickey had to wait around in the shitty weather stone cold sober. Fuckers.

The hairs on his arms stood up straight as goosebumps rose on his skin, "Hurry up, man, come on" he bit out, ignoring the chatter of his teeth as the back of his vest blew up with a strong gust of wind. _It'll be over by tomorrow morning _Ian had told him, _soaring temperatures once again _he'd said, like that was supposed to make Mickey feel better or stop him from getting pneumonia right now.

Iggy jumped down from the back of the van with a dull thud and a smug smirk as he adjusted his gloves,

"Relax, Mick. Fuck, man. You're wound up too tight."

"You're fucking fault I'm even out here, don't tell me to relax" Mickey bitched, trying to ignore the shiver that crawled over him,

"Get your fucking asses back in here" Terry called out to them, his voice a loud whisper. He pushed open the back door wide enough for them to pass through, but the wind blew it back against a metal shutter with a loud clang and all three of the Milkovich boys winced at the sound.

Terry kept watch by the door as Iggy and Mickey got back to work, lifting as many crates as they could into their arms and hauling them outside.

By the time the van was full and both boys' arms ached, the wind was howling outside. The lampposts flickered against the assault and garbage cans and litter rustled noisily along the streets, travelling along with the gale.

"That all we can get in?" Terry asked, ducking his head to look up the wooden steps leading to the office where Walter was due back any moment.

"Yeah" Mickey said, stretching out his arm and massaging the aching muscle. He eyed a blue bottle high up on a shelf and he frowned up at it as he tried to read the label – Royal Salute. He knelt up on to a table and strained up to grab it, knocking down a piece of paper with it. He flipped the bottle in his hand – it had gold detailing and felt heavy in his palm. _1938 Royale Salute scotch. $398._ Mickey's eyes bugged out of his head and he crumpled the card in his palm before anyone else could see it.

He craned his neck to look at his dad and Terry nodded at him then, his mouth in a grim line that Mickey had long ago learnt was just his natural expression. He eyed his dad as Terry reached behind him, eyes still glued on the door at the top of the steps.

"You know what to do with the rest" He said and Mickey nodded, putting the bottle down on a lower shelf before he held his hands out for the titanium bat now in Terry's hands.

Terry had come up with the plan to take Walter's alcohol two days after the junkyard burned down. Most of the cars and junk had survived, but the damage still put a bunch of people out of work and lost Terry money. In the week since the fire, Mickey, Colin and Iggy had looked all over the city for Walter and his boys. When it became clear that they were managing to avoid the Milkoviches at every turn, Terry grew impatient. His original plan was to confront Walter and take back what he was owed, steal enough alcohol to cover the cost of the damage and gain a little profit. But then Walter had disrespected him by avoiding him, so Terry's plans changed.

That was how Mickey and Iggy found themselves in the basement of one of Walter's businesses, a van full of drink outside and a bat in hand. Mickey made the first hit, drawing the bat back as far as he could before swinging it forward with all of his strength. There was an ear-shattering smash as the bat connected, bottles splitting open upon impact and spilling their contents. Iggy yanked all the boxes from their shelves and tipped them out on the floor, stamping on and throwing whatever bottles didn't break. Cans of beer popped with an angry hiss as Iggy bent down and jammed the tip of his pocket knife into their sides.

Terry watched them with a grin on his face, eyes aflame with a twisted kind of pleasure as he surveyed the damage.

Just then the lights flickered on in the room above them, casting a dim glow across the stairs and Mickey's heart jumped into his throat. He gripped the bat tighter in his palm, already on the balls of his feet ready to move for the door, when Iggy let out a too loud 'Oh, shit' and tripped over his own feet as he scrambled for the exit. He crashed to the ground with a thump and Mickey groaned.

"You're gonna get us caught, Fuckhead. Get up!" He hissed as he kicked at Iggy's side. Terry was already gone, the rumbling sounds of the engine sounding above the noise of the winds. Footsteps could be heard above them now, creaks from the floorboards above and Mickey's stomach fluttered with nerves. "Come on, stay quiet!"

Iggy staggered to his feet and grabbed at Mickey's tank top as he pulled himself fully upright. He almost fell again as he moved forward and Mickey let out an exasperated sigh, because yes, this was his fucking life.

Just as the door above them swung open and the deep murmur of male voices began to drift downstairs, Iggy launched forward with all his strength, pushed open the door and ran. Mickey bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, eyes flickering over to where the last remaining few bottles stood on their shelves. He huffed out a sigh and decided to risk it.

The top step creaked under someone's weight and Mickey darted back over to the shelf with the bottle of expensive scotch, feeling the crunch of glass and the splash of liquid under his feet. He picked it up, ignoring the yells of his dad and brother to hurry the fuck up.

"Milkovich!" Came a loud, husky voice from over by the steps. The voice seemed to echo around the walls of the basement. Booming and angry, the bottles loose on the shelves rattled with the sound and Mickey's heart jumped into his throat. He ran for the exit, feet skidding along a puddle of alcohol that had pooled on the floor. Walter and Caro were on the bottom step now, cursing Terry's name just as Mickey jumped into the back of the van and slammed the doors shut behind him.

He let out a long sigh as he relaxed against the side panels of the van, squashed between the back door and a crate of alcohol. He was more breathless than he should've been and he almost let out a laugh as he tucked the bottle of scotch into his side. Mickey could hear yelling and cursing coming from outside as Walter and Caro chased after the van. As their voices began to fade, the knot of tension in between Mickey's shoulder blades eased just a fraction. But then there was a bang, two more and then another one, loud enough not to be lost in the howl of the wind. A stray bullet pierced one of the back windows, the sheet of glass exploding around him as Mickey ducked his head to avoid getting cut. His heart raced and his eyes were wide with shock, and he couldn't help the nervous laughter that escaped his throat.

"Fucking Rosellis!" Terry spat, hitting the gas and driving them away as fast as he could, swerving round a corner and spitting out curses as all the crates on one side of the van toppled over noisily.

"It's not a hoodie" She said, fingering the lining of the pockets of Casper's cream jacket as they walked down the empty block. Her hair was blowing around her face and Casper jerked his head away with a laugh as a few strands flicked dangerously close to his eye. He reached out and smoothed her hair down, tucking it behind her ears as a blush crept across her cheeks. She avoided his eyes as a smile threatened to break out on her face. The wind had died down from the storm that swept through the night before, but it was still strong enough that three hours out in it had burned at her cheeks, despite the sun being hidden by the clouded sky.

"What?!" Casper exclaimed with a dopey grin, fingers of one hand playing absently with the ends of her hair "Of course it's a hoodie"

"It's a jacket that not even my grandpa would wear" Mandy teased. She leant in flirtingly close to him, her nose brushing his for a second before she pulled away and ruffled his hair with her fingers "It doesn't even _have_ a hood"

As Casper squirmed out of her touch, Mandy swallowed down the last of her beer with a playful smile. She chucked the bottle aside as she finished and it rolled noisily along the ground. Casper eyed it with an unsure look and Mandy wanted to laugh at his expression, at his whole moral compass and good guy persona, but what came out instead was a scoff that sounded almost fond. She pulled him along by the lapels of his jacket (that was _definitely _not a hoodie, no matter how he tried to justify it) and walked backwards until they were standing in front of the Kash 'n' Grab.

"Come on, let's go see Ian" She smiled and Casper's cheeks flushed pink as she slipped her fingers through his, pulling him through the door. The bell above it announced their entrance with a ding and Ian looked up at them from his spot behind the counter. He was chewing on the skin around his pinkie finger and Mandy batted his hand from his mouth as she came to a stop in front of him and jumped up onto the side. "You look like Mickey when you do that"

"That's physically impossible" Ian replied, with a dry look.

He wiped his hands against his jeans and Mandy pulled a face at him. "Actually" Casper said, his palms tapping nervously against the front of his dark beige, slim line chinos, that Mandy didn't hate as much as she pretended too "if you work closely together for an extended period of time, it's easy to pick up each other's habits and mannerisms"

A beat passed as Ian looked blankly at Casper. He raised an eyebrow, "_Who_ are you?"

Mandy backhanded him in the chest and he winced at the harsh contact, playing it off with a snort of laughter. Casper scratched at the styled mess of his hair and stuttered out an unsure noise.

As she hopped off the counter, Mandy ran her fingers across Casper's side and along his back and smiled at him when he shot her a bashful grin. "I'm getting Pringles" she called back to Ian as he disappeared down an aisle.

"Save the BBQ ones" he yelled.

"Sure" Mandy called back to him.

She returned with a tube of BBQ Pringles, lid already torn open and two Pringles sticking out of her mouth. She lifted herself back onto the counter and tipped the pot towards Ian, eyes wide with false innocence, "Want one?" she asked, voice muffled around the crisps.

As she crunched noisily on the crisps, Ian just looked at her, unimpressed. Mandy stopped chewing to smirk before she swallowed the mouthful and slid the tube over to him,

"What time do you get off?" she asked, swinging her legs idly against the counter, a dull thud sounding every time her feet connected with it.

Ian sighed and scratched at his chin. Mandy pretended not to notice the dark circles under his eyes, "Mickey hasn't shown up for his shift. So probably closing"

"He's an asshole" Mandy said as she reached into the pot by Ian's elbow and pulled out a blue raspberry lollipop, "I don't even know why Lynda hired him" she grumbled as she unwrapped it.

Ian just shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes "scares off thieves."

She laughed then, before she put the lolly in her mouth, twiddling the stick between her thumb and finger, "stealing has only gone down because _he_ stopped robbing the store."

Ian just smirked up at her, because everyone knew it was the truth. Casper was smiling at her, a soft, fond look on his face and Mandy didn't understand it. She didn't understand many things about Casper, it seemed.

"Whatever, go enjoy your date" Mandy jabbed a finger against Ian's chest before jumping down and pursing her lips playfully at him. She saw in the reflection that her lips were tinted blue from the lollipop.

"Later, dumbass" she grinned before she grabbed Casper's hand and pulled him out of the store as the door dinged closed behind them.

#

Lip was sat on his window sill, cigarette burning down to the tip as he looked down thoughtfully at a picture on his cell. She was okay. Karen was okay. She had called Sheila and Sheila had said she sounded healthy and good. Sheila had been animated when she spoke to Lip that afternoon, alive in a way she hadn't been since Karen had left. And Lip wasn't proud enough to deny that he felt better too, as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders with the knowledge of her safety. He ran a thumb over her face in the screen and let himself, just for that moment, feel the sadness he had swallowed back since the minute she left.

The picture on screen was of Karen kissing his cheek, her eyes on the camera and his half closed and red from too much weed. He was smiling, his expression soft just like Mandy's was in the photo he found before and his breath seemed to lodge in his throat at the expression.

He hadn't felt like that in a long time. He had spent so long clinging to what he had felt with Karen the first time round, spent so long holding onto the jealousy that burned inside of him after she had so easily moved on with Jody, that he wasn't sure what was real and when it had actually stopped.

Karen had a hold over him. She was the biggest temptation to him, the strongest craving he had ever had. He had always seen her as an extension of himself, him in female form. She was intelligent and fiercely protective of her mom, like he was with his family. She was a burning ball of anger and kept it simmering beneath her skin, used it to push herself forward, just like he did. Karen shared his views on a lot of things and held him at a long enough distance that he never felt smothered. She was his best friend and his biggest vice, had been for so long. He had been addicted to the chase, of who he thought she had been and who he had been when he was with her, and for the first time since she left he felt like he had finally sweated her out of his system.

His chest no longer hurt when he thought of her and the anger and hurt inside of him didn't burn quite so much at the mention of her name. He wasn't over her, not fully. He probably never would be. But he had to at least try to be.

And with that, he inhaled as deep as he could and made himself delete the picture.

#

He tipped his head to look up at the sky and let out a long, impatient sigh. He danced his fingertips along his thighs, jiggled his feet against the grass, practised blowing smoke rings before they were carried away, disappearing into nothing with the wind.

Finally, after another twenty minutes of chain smoking and increasingly impatient finger drumming, Mickey walked round the corner of the baseball pitch and headed over to him. Ian sat up from where he was laying on the ground inside the baseball diamond. He raised his eyebrows at Mickey, silently asking for an answer. Mickey just dropped his duffel bag to the ground and collapsed down beside him. He stole the cigarette from between Ian's fingers and Ian kicked his side.

"Hey thanks for turning up to work today. Or y'know, letting me know you weren't coming. Or arranging for someone else to cover your shift. Not like I just had to do twelve straight hours or anything" He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and Mickey barely spared him a glance as he pulled his duffel bag under his head like a makeshift pillow.

"Can you believe those assholes?!" Mickey said, blowing smoke out of his nose as he stared up at the sky above him. "You know all their younger boys spray painted and flooded the spa?" He rolled half onto his side and spat on the ground beside him, plucking a stray piece of tobacco from his lip. Ian wiped a tired hand over his face and as he stole the cigarette back from Mickey, he noticed the dark smudges under his eyes and the thin, jagged cuts scattered along his face and arms and decided that for tonight he would drop it. He couldn't be fucked to argue anyway.

"What's the spa got to do with your dad?" he asked, instead. He lay back down and waited a beat before yanking the bag from under Mickey's head, stealing it for himself. Mickey's head bounced off the ground and he backhanded Ian's chest with a pissed off frown. Ian just settled his head deeper into the makeshift pillow, with a satisfied grin.

"He owns parts in it" Mickey offered, apparently choosing to be the bigger person and letting Ian keep the pillow, "He owns parts, a few girls."

Ian blinked at Mickey as Mickey twisted his head to the side to look at him. "He owns gi- never mind, don't wanna know."

Mickey's hand reached out, fingers idly scratching at a dried in ketchup stain on the stomach of Ian's shirt. "He wants me to go round tonight, slash a few tires, maybe rob a couple houses. You in?"

"No" Ian scoffed, batting Mickey's hand away. Mickey smirked at the irritated look on Ian's face and jabbed a finger into his side. Ian winced and smacked his hand harder. Mickey just yanked the pillow back, holding it out of Ian's reach.

"You busy?" he asked and Ian wafted away the cloud of dust that blew up around them as a stray breeze passed by.

"No" he answered, settling back down and folding his arms behind his head, using them as a pillow instead. "Just don't want to get caught up in that shit. The Rosellis are fucked up."

"Pussy."

"Not a pussy" Ian took a pull on the almost burnt out cigarette and let the smoke curl out of his mouth slowly, "Just being smart" he exhaled the last of the smoke from his mouth just as Mickey reached over and snatched the cigarette from him.

"Whatever" Mickey muttered petulantly and Ian rolled his eyes.

"I-" he sighed at the expression on Mickey's face, already knowing where his night was headed. If he was going to be dumb for anyone, of course it was going to be Mickey Milkovich. "You going alone?"

"Probably." Mickey admitted "Colin's just got out, got to keep his head low for a couple months. Iggy's hitting a different part of town"

"This is a stupid idea" Ian bitched, sitting up and twisting round to face Mickey.

"They started it, man"

"Iggy started it" he corrected and Mickey just looked at him like he was an asshole.

"You coming or not?"

Ian let out a long sigh, already regretting his answer it even escaped his lips. "...you owe me big for this."

#

The doorbell rang just as Ian was getting into his debate with Carl about whether or not Ian should let him take Ian's best blade away with him to little Hank's for the week. Ian was set on a solid 'no way in hell'. Carl was of the opposite opinion.

Before anybody could make a move, Debbie was up like a shot and full of excitement. She raced towards the door calling out for Frank, who had promised he would turn up for dinner tonight. Lip and Ian glanced at each other as Debbie called Frank's name out excitedly, both boys already knowing that Frank wasn't going to turn up. Lip had seen him with Gary the homeless guy, a bottle full of percocet and a fifth of vodka earlier that day.

A few moments passed in silence before the found of feet being dragged along the floor could be heard. "It's Mandy's brother" Debbie sighed dejectedly as she walked back into the kitchen, her posture slouched. "He wants you" she gestured towards Ian with a wave of her hand and slumped back into her chair. Ian felt a sharp pang in his chest for her, for the hope that flickered and wavered inside of her, like a candle fighting to stay alight in the wind. Swallowing down a memory of himself at her age, wearing the same expression after Frank let him down once again, he stood up and busied himself by looking down at his watch.

Wiping his mouth on the back of the hand he said, "Got to go" to his family as they all looked up at him. He pulled a thin jacket from the coat rack and shrugged it on as Fiona just looked at him.

"Mandy's brother?" she asked with a forced casualness to her tone. She twirled spaghetti onto her fork and Ian tipped his head at her.

"Mickey" He answered. "We work together, you know that"

"You need a chaperone now?" she asked before swallowing the forkful of pasta.

"We're hanging out for a bit" He explained with a tilt of his head and Fiona just eyed him silently for a moment before she brought a cup to her lips and sipped at the water. Her eyes never left Ian's and he felt pinpricks of sweat form on the back of his neck under her almost knowing gaze.

"No trouble, Ian." she said calmly, her voice thinly laced with a warning.

"You got it, Fi" He forced himself to reply with a smile as he shoved his feet into his boots and headed towards the door.

"Hey Mick" He greeted, closing the door shut behind him. Mickey raised his eyebrows in greeting before he headed down the steps towards the gate.

#

Placing her cup back on the table, Fiona raised her eyebrows at Lip, who just shrugged in response to her unanswered question.

"Uh..." Lip swallowed, dug his tongue into his cheek. "Mickey got his hands on some good gym equipment. Ian asked if he could use it"

"In exchange for what?" she asked, her voice full of suspicion. Lip swallowed a mouthful of his drink and hunched his shoulders as he tucked back into his food.

"Uh, work. Cover some of Mickey's shifts"

Fiona looked at Lip, the scepticism in her eyes not wavering.

"Frank said he'd be here, he promised!" Debbie huffed, her cheek resting on the closed fist of one hand while she stabbed at her spaghetti with a fork held in the other.

Fiona spared one last glance at Lip before she dropped the subject and reached over, scratching her nails comfortingly in the red waves of Debbie's hair. "I know Debs, I'm sure he's just had a few too many and forgotten alright? He'll get here eventually, he always does."

–

The bright orange paint dripped slowly down the wall, standing out against the dull bricks. Marvin adjusted the beanie on his head as sweat formed in beads at his hairline. He scrubbed his hand across his face and watched as his cousin shook the can of spray paint before finishing off another letter. _Fuck the Milkovich fags _was now scrawled across all but three of the alleys that made up the streets of their neighbourhood.

Marvin had planned on spending his night with his girl and a tub of Ben 'n' Jerry's, watching the new Jason Statham film and trying to think of ways to get himself off while Carly was on the rag. He had planned on a night in his baggiest sweats, his filthiest tank top and curled up on his sofa, unmoving. But no. No, instead his asshole cousin called him out and told him to grab his beanie and his jacket and meet him with the stash of spray cans he had in his garage. And what a waste of a night it was – Marvin wasn't even a Roselli by name any more, he was a Landen now that his mom had remarried, this shit wasn't any of his business. He knew from one too many fights on school playgrounds that the Milkovich boys were not to be taken as a joke.

But Ricky had threatened to tell their uncle Walter about the time he totalled his car on a night out three years ago. All three of them – Ricky, himself and Alex – had been up for two nights sampling some of their granddad's new batch of MDMA and Ricky had somehow convinced him to drive the car while out of his nut. Marvin, idiot that he is, didn't realise that Ricky had spiked him with two tabs of acid and drove it until a bright green leprechaun that his mind created began chasing them. Shortly after a tree jumped out of nowhere and Marvin was too scared of the leprechaun yelling his name out behind them to even try and stop. So he crashed the car. Somehow Ricky managed to talk his way out of it, saving the three of them for their uncle's wrath. And, prick that Ricky is, had held it over Marvin's head ever since.

Which is how he found himself standing with his two cousins under a street light, tagging walls with curse words at midnight on a Friday evening. "Yo Rick, Walt is going to be pissed at you for this man. He said no petty stuff, remember? He's already going to be pissed about the spa you hit."

Ricky carried on shaking the can, ignoring Marvin as usual. He pressed down on the canister as it spat out more paint against the wall. He moved his arm round, the letter 'g' forming as he curved his hand and flexed his wrist. "My uncle don't know shit. Guy thinks he's a fucking gangster from the 50's who can solve everything with just talking and respect. Times have changed man, nobody's got respect for nobody no more"

"Is that a double negative?" Alex asked, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses on his face and smearing a faint orange line across the centre of them, "I'm pretty sure that's a double negative."

"What the fuck is a double negative?" Ricky screwed up his face at Alex and shoved a can into the palm of his hand.

"He's going to kick your ass man" Marvin tried, but he knew it was pointless. Ricky was relentless. Once he had an idea there was no talking him out of it. Marvin had learned that the hard way when, aged eight, Ricky convinced him to jump off the edge of the pier at Lake Michigan because he was convinced that the papier-mâché wings he had made were strong enough to make them fly. Marvin had spent the whole afternoon trying to talk Ricky out of jumping, but somehow they both ended up soggy, wet and half-frozen after falling in the water when the wings failed. That story pretty much summed up their entire relationship.

Ricky pushed Marvin out of the way, shoving an elbow into his side to make him move. Then he turned and sprayed an orange line up Marvin's arm and smiling up at him with a smug look. Marvin had never hated him as much as he did in that moment. "Now he's going to kick yours too. Shut up!"

"What the fuck Rick?" Marvin pushed him back, wiping his painted arm along any part of Ricky he could reach as Ricky ducked to avoid him. "You're such a fucking asshole"

"We got to get going" Mickey said as he flipped his phone closed and shoved it into his jacket pocket, "Iggy's already started."

"How do you know what houses to get?" Ian asked as he pulled on a dark beanie hat down over his forehead, disguising him in the darkness as just another hoodrat of Chicago. He re-fastened the buttons of his jacket and tightened his gloves, busying his hands so they wouldn't tremble with nerves.

Mickey's hand covered his, stilling them as he fidgeted nervously. His distractions clearly weren't working as well as he had hoped. Mickey dropped his hand after a moment, but stayed close to Ian's side and somehow that helped, turning the anxiety down to a simmer inside of him. "Dad says the Rosellis have got their name all over town - small businesses, property developments and all that shit. They've spent out thousands on a bunch of houses on the Northside, trying to sell them now"

"That's where Iggy is?" Ian asked, fighting the urge to rip off his gloves and chew his fingernails until they were nothing but sore nubs.

"Yeah" Mickey grunted, apparently reading Ian's mind as he busied himself by gnawing on the skin around his thumb nail.

"And so where are we?" Ian peeked out from behind the bush they were hid behind, looking out just far enough to see that the area they had walked to was expensive. Houses all down the block had big, bold pillars and cherry red front doors. All the front lawns were freshly mown with flowers and ornaments planted neatly in the grass. "Shit. Looks nice" he said as he looked around. All the windows were blacked out, lights off with the curtains drawn. Only a single light was on in the whole block, but to Ian it might as well have been a thousand. He couldn't take his eyes away from the lit up room, couldn't stop his mind from creating shadows and shapes, seeing people that weren't really there, seeing ways of being caught. The anxiety rose once again inside of him, bubbling up from the pit of his stomach and boiling over until he could feel it in his fingertips.

"At their houses" Mickey answered, almost sheepish as he avoided Ian's eyes and focused on looking down the street at the quiet neighbourhood.

"Wha-" Ian stuttered, "they fucking live here?" he asked, his voice loud in the silence that surrounded them. Mickey glared at him, his eyebrows drawing down as he stepped out of sight, joining Ian back behind the bush.

"Yes they fucking live here" Mickey whispered harshly, his fingers catching in Ian's jacket as he gestured for him to keep his voice down.

Ian took a breath and stood up tall so he could peer over the edge of the bush, "Jesus Mick" he breathed, his voice no way near as shaky as he felt. "What if they catch us?"

"Don't make noise, they won't catch us" Mickey retorted and Ian just looked at him as Mickey began to pace nervously, taking short breaths in through his nose to calm himself. "Relax" he said, like it was Ian who was about to wear a hole in the ground "I've done it with my brothers a hundred times"

Ian turned his head to face Mickey. "Considering you and all your brothers have been in jail at least twice each, that's not comforting."

Mickey stopped pacing for a moment, just to screw his face up at Ian. "That was all for assault, that was different."

Ian let out a laugh at Mickey's expression, his whole body relaxing as he clapped Mickey on the shoulder. "Truly an upstanding citizen Mick."

Mickey looked about a thousand percent done with him as he pushed his hand away and took one last pull on his cigarette. "Fuck you, like your much better." He said around a lungful of smoke. Ian just shoved him playfully and accepted the last of the cigarette. Ian let out a nervous breath as he looked back down at the empty, silent houses.

Mickey watched him with a growing smirk as he hoisted a backpack onto his shoulders. "You ready?"

Ian glanced back behind him at the alleyway, at the way home, back to his room where he was safe and not about to break into the house of a well-known mobster. "Nope."

Nerves spread once again through him like wildfire. His chest rose and fell too fast, a nervous pulse beating rapidly through his entire body. He scrubbed a hand roughly over his eyes until he saw dots. He took in a deep, calming breath; adrenaline and nerves making him feel jumpy under his skin, his hands twitching. He looked at Mickey and saw Mickey's eyes focused intently on the house down the street, his eyes steeled but his breathing shaky. Mickey blinked and looked up at him, his eyes going soft for a moment before he steeled them once again and nodded definitively, "Let's go"

Ian took in a large gulp of air and followed after Mickey, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

Together they made their way down the street, side by side, like two soldiers in the midst of a war.

"So that 'I' before 'E' thing is crap?" Kev asked as he dried a glass with a towel. His eyebrows were pulled tight in confusion and his mouth was tight like the English language thoroughly pissed him off.

"Uh, not always" Lip answered, knuckles drumming rhythmically on the table. "But pretty much."

"What about 'perceive?'"

"E I"

"Ceiling?"

"E I"

"Believe?"

Lip pointed his finger at Kev, "I E"

Kev shook his head and slapped the towel over his shoulder, "the English language is so fucked up, man."

"You're telling me. Wait till you get to the big words, like onomatopoeia"

Kev paused, "what?"

Lip swallowed a mouthful of his beer, "Frog croaks, bird whistles…"

"What?" Kev asked blankly, just as Lip felt someone come up to stand beside him at the bar. He turned his head and saw Casper standing there, smiling down at him.

"Hey Lip!"

"Casper" Lip greeted with a tip of his head and Casper's smile widened as he leant on the sticky bar top with his elbows, "What brings you here?"

"You get served in here?" Casper asked in a hushed tone and Lip fought back the urge to snort at the scandalised look on the guy's face.

"Yeah" Lip waited a beat, took in Casper's $150 skinny chinos and his $90 haircut. "Fake I.D, plus an in with the owner." He tipped his head towards Kev and watched as Casper's eyes followed the gesture, as he raised his hand in a wave and smiled warmly at him.

"Cool, man"

Lip found himself biting back a smile at the guy's enthusiasm. Instead he slid his half empty beer closer to Casper, offering him a sip, and he asked, "Things, uh… things going well with you and Mandy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so" Casper sipped at the beer before smiling a thank you. He and Lip looked over to Mandy and Lip felt something pang inside of him at the unabashed affection written like poetry across Casper's face. Lip looked over at Mandy and took in her outfit – she looked grown up, almost elegant in her black dress, her hair in loose tendrils around her face. She looked beautiful. Lip didn't know how he hadn't noticed it when he had her warm and happy and smiling beneath his own body all those months before.

"We're heading out to dinner actually" Lip tore his eyes away from Mandy, who was busy holding out her hand as Terry rooted through his pockets with a pissed off expression, and forced himself to look back at Casper who had answered a question Lip didn't remember asking.

"Yeah?" he asked conversationally and Casper nodded as he sipped once more at Lip's beer.

"Yeah. The new place that just opened up a few blocks from my house. It's meant to be really good."

Mandy walked over to them then, her body pressing against Casper's side as she eyed Lip. Lip just forced a smirk at her.

"Dates on the North Side huh? My, my aren't we doing well"

Mandy flipped him off, her black nail polish chipped, and Lip just laughed to himself as he took a swig of his beer.

"Seen Ian?" Mandy asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and Lip sucked his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment before he shook his head, his eyes never leaving Mandy's.

"Nope. Out with your brother."

Mandy rolled her eyes like she didn't care, but Lip could see the curiosity about their brothers' friendship growing inside of her. It was shut down before Lip could even comment. "Whatever" Mandy pursed her lips and curled her hand around Casper's bicep. "You ready to go?"

Casper nodded enthusiastically and Mandy's eyes seemed to light up a little bit as she looked at him. Lip looked down at his hands.

"See ya later"

"Bye" Casper waved with a sweet smile as he and Mandy walked towards the exit. Lip felt a rush of emotion as he looked after them. He hated everything that Casper stood for, hated the clothes that he wore and his untainted view of the world. He hated his sweet, genuine attitude – it settled uncomfortably in his gut, fought against the deep instilled instinct to not trust and stay suspicious. Casper stood out in the South Side like a rose that grew in a burnt out warzone. He was everything Lip wasn't, everything that their neighbourhood wasn't. Lip hated that Mandy liked him for that exact reason.

"Enjoy your date" Lip called out, the words not coming out as friendly as he hoped, just as Mandy walked out into the street. "Order lobster!"

She looked at him just before the door swung closed. It was barely a second, but her expression was soft, unguarded. A look that she wore just for him.

The wrongly directed anger he felt towards Casper slipped away with Mandy's expression and Lip found himself smiling long after she had gone.

They ran until he could feel his legs burning and the muscles of his calves cramping. His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing came out loud and ragged, shaking as he tried to keep himself calm.

Skidding to a halt at the end of a corner, Ian barely spared a glance behind him to make sure nobody was watching before he turned into an alley. He grabbed hold of Mickey's collar and tugged him along until they were safely tucked out of sight. His legs throbbed and electricity buzzed through him. He could still hear the sounds of footsteps pounding down the stairs echoing in his ears, despite the fact that he and Mickey outrun them long ago. He bounced on the balls of his feet, fighting hard to catch his breath and settle his heart rate. They were a block away from the Kash 'n' Grab, only a few blocks from Mickey's home and Ian couldn't believe they had made it. They had actually made it.

The air was warm and humid, sticky and uncomfortable against Ian's sweaty skin. And Mickey. That fucker. He was laughing. It was the kind of laughter that Ian rarely got to hear, his face split with a wide grin, his eyes screwed tight, the sound something that Ian wanted to hear again and again. Ian watched mickey's face as he laughed and bit down on the urge to laugh with him. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins like a drug, leaving him feeling shaky and high.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! You did that on purpose" He yelled, a grin on his face as he pushed Mickey.

Mickey only laughed louder, "Shoulda seen the look on your face. I've never seen you that fucking pale"

Ian took a quick breath, his eyes flicking back down the darkened alley, "Think they'll know it was us?"

Mickey's laughter settled down as he fought to catch his breath, an amused look still on his face as he put his hands on his knees to steady himself, "Nah man. You'll be fine"

Ian let out a short bark of laughter as his shoulders sagged with relief and exhaustion. "I can't believe you did that"

Mickey cocked his head, "Makes it more fun"

"Oh yeah, smashing up a house then purposely setting off the alarm so we almost get caught - _totally_ my idea of fun"

Mickey laughed again as Ian stood upright, his cheeks flushed from the heat and exertion. Mickey bit the inside of his cheek against a smile as he pulled the beanie from Ian's head and tangled the red hair between his fingers. Ian froze at the unexpected touch, his eyes on Mickey's. Mickey's face was open and relaxed, his lips parted. He looked younger, his eyes hooded with tiredness and a pink flush to his cheeks as he dropped his hand, "We should do it again"

Ian snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Mickey's voice, and he shook his head at his words, "We are NEVER doing that again". He laughed, pushing Mickey again. Mickey let himself fall back against the wall and Ian stepped closer, his fingers sliding the thin fabric of Mick's t-shirt up his sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps across his skin.

A faint breeze passed through the alley and Ian fought the urge to groan with pleasure as the cool air hit his heated cheeks. He leant in and nosed at Mickey's throat, dragging his teeth over the bared skin as Mickey pulled him in closer. They were both too hot, too many dark layers between them to make them comfortable, but neither of them moved away.

Ian let his tongue chase the hammering of Mickey's pulse, licking over the sensitive spot on his neck. Mickey tasted of salt and smoke and sweat, and Ian couldn't conceal the smile that grew wider on his face as Mickey's fingers tightened their grip on his shirt.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

This is more of a (ridiculously long) filler chapter before shit starts going down in the next one. dun dun dun.

Also it has been decided that Mickey and Pringles are now a thing. New OTP - their name shall be Prickey. #MeganIsAGenius.

Important announcement: Mickey's opinions on James Franco are completely his own and do not reflect the views of the author. Nope. #FrancoIsAHottieYo

Enjoy!

* * *

The knife slid through easily, the sharp tip cutting through with a strangely satisfying pull as the glue ripped apart around the paper. Mickey let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled out yet another reminder for the water to be paid from the envelope. It was the third bill in the pile, the other four letters all invoices for furniture and carpets. "For a bunch of fucking guys that claim they're a part of the mob – they're seriously pretty boring. Not even a damn credit card in the mail."

"They probably use fake names and shit" Iggy replied and Mickey's face grew pinched as a chewed up wad of egg dropped back onto Iggy's plate as he opened his mouth to speak again. "Like those guys from that TV show – always using fake names and fake badges to get in places. Right?"

"Oh, you mean the one TV show in the entire world that has that?" Mickey sniped, rubbing his fingers along his forehead, trying to ease the headache that had formed along his eyebrows. It wasn't even eight thirty in the morning and already he wanted to go back to bed. A crust of toast hit against the side of his face and Mickey just raised his eyebrows at Iggy.

"You know, the one with the brothers and the fucking devils and shit" Iggy clarified as he reached over the table with grubby hands and picked up the crust of toast, shoving it in his mouth and swallowing it down, barely chewed, with a gulp of OJ.

"There's only one devil, dumbass" Mickey sniffed as he ripped open another letter, screwing it up when he saw yet another invoice. A small thread of guilt threatened to unravel inside of him when he thought of the damage that he and his brothers caused, the amount of money that they had probably cost Walter, but then he remembered the sound of bullets and smashing glass, he remembered the three hours of sleep he had last night and the smell of fire and gasoline burning at the inside of his nostrils. After that it wasn't guilt that he felt, but anger.

"Will you shut the fuck up about a damn TV show" Terry grumbled, cutting into his eggs. "I don't want that faggotty ass conversation at my breakfast table."

Mandy walked by the table then, wearing a pair of rolled up boxers and one of those stupid bra tops that Mickey had been seeing all over the city since the sun decided to make a proper appearance. She reached over to steal a slice of toast from Iggy's plate and as he made a move to grab it back, she held it up out of reach and just grinned at him before heading towards the bathroom.

"BITCH!" Iggy yelled out to her in his best Aaron Paul impression and Mickey wondered what the fuck was up with his entire family – banter and smiles before noon was not a thing that happened. Especially not from Mandy who was usually threatening to claw his eyes out at this time just for breathing.

"It's a fucking TV show" Mickey said to his dad and Terry looked up at him as Mickey flipped the closed blade over in his hand. "What you'd prefer if we talked about tits and beer?"

"Just—shut the fuck up" Terry belched, scratching at his belly. "I got a damn headache" He wiped at his mouth and took a long gulp of coffee. "What's the plan for today?"

"I got me a date." Colin called from the kitchen, where he was half bent over as he peered into the cupboards. He hissed when oil from the frying pan splattered up, hot and burning at his skin. Mickey laughed as Colin batted the pan with his hand, sending it skidding to the back of the hob.

"What with Palmela Handerson and her five sisters?" Iggy retorted, wiggling his fingers as he shot Colin a pointed look. Colin leant back until he could see Iggy at the table before he held up his middle finger and ignored Mickey's snort of laughter.

"Doesn't count as a date if you're just taking her to the Alibi and finger-banging her in the bathroom." Iggy smiled around a mouthful of food and Mickey opened his mouth again when his dad interrupted.

"Cancel it" Terry sounded around a mouthful of bacon, spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "Got more important shit to do. I want you out on the streets selling all our shit today."

"Again?" Iggy sighed, his whole body heaving with it as he slumped further in his seat. Terry just glared at him.

"I gotta work today" Mickey said, if only to keep the peace between his dad and brother. The last thing he needed today was the police being called out again. They'd already been out twice this week due to complaints of the yelling and the fighting. You would think the neighbours would be used to it by now. "I can sell from the store." He rushed to add at his dad's less than pleasant expression.

"Ya working all day?" Terry asked after a moment and Mickey avoided his eyes as he nodded, suddenly interested in the pile of envelopes in front of him.

"Inventory."

"Whatever" his dad answered, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth "just don't come home until you've sold at least half."

"Sure thing, pops" Mickey replied as his his knife slipped out of his grip and clattered to the floor.

"Is it true that the Rosellis beheaded that guy they found in the river?" Carl asked as he squirted too much ketchup over his eggs. He leant forward and ran his tongue over them, lapping up the ketchup and jabbing his tongue against the yolks until they popped. "Awesome" he smirked to himself as the yolk dripped in yellow strands from his chin.

"No, that was Shane and Jamie Costello. I used to go to kindergarten with one of their nephews." Debbie answered as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail.

"Yeah the guy was some junkie friend of Mandy's dad" Ian said around a mouthful of toast. "That's what kicked it off between Terry and the Costellos a few years ago"

Carl paused to twist his head to face Ian, bits of yellow yolk drying to his chin. "Is Terry Milkovich the closest thing we've got to the Godfather?"

"Yeah if the Godfather liked incest and meth" Lip replied with a lungful of smoke as he chucked a damp cloth at Carl's head.

"Incest?" Carl repeated with a look of dismay and confusion on his face as he wiped the cloth along his chin.

"Never mind, Carl" Ian rubbed a hand over the back of Carl's head, a slice of toast dangling from between his teeth as he glared pointedly at Lip.

A beat passed in busied silence. Carl's knife scraped against his plate as he cut into his eggs, conversation forgotten. Debbie grumbled to herself as she yanked her hairband from her hair. Liam made beeping noises as he played with his trucks in the living room.

"You seeing Mandy today?" Lip asked, looking up at Ian. Ian jumped off of the stool and brushed the crumbs from his trousers.

"No" he replied, "working with Mickey. Want me to pass on a message?"

Lip shook his head and smirked at his brother. Ian fought the urge to flip him off. "Na, it's cool."

"Are you and Mandy dating?" Debbie asked Lip and Ian laughed, ripping off and chewing on a chunk of toast.

"No" Ian answered, "Mandy's upgraded to a Northside kid, no way she's going to slum it again after that."

Debbie's mouth twisted as she continued to struggle with her hair. Lip held up his middle finger at Ian as he sipped at his coffee. Carl had ketchup smeared around his mouth as he shovelled in another forkful of eggs. Ian just picked up his jacket and headed out through the back door, a look on his face that could almost be called victorious as he said bye to everyone, keeping his voice quiet as he remembered an exhausted Fiona asleep in her bedroom upstairs.

Lip gulped down the last of his coffee, dropped his cup back on the table and grabbed his thinnest jacket from the hook. "straight to school you two, it's your last day. V will be here in ten to take Liam, so no excuses." he said to his siblings before running out the door after his brother.

He jogged to catch up with his brother. Ian turned round as Lip yelled out to him, saw him and waited. Lip lit up a cigarette as he reached him and handed it to him as they started to walk. "You working all day?"

"Yeah. Only had two periods so thought I'd skip" Ian said "Got inventory with Mick tonight."

"Inventory, huh?" Lip smirked as he took a puff on the cigarette Ian handed back to him "That's what you kids are calling it these days?"

Ian screwed up his face and pushed Lip's away from him "Two years since the gay sex jokes started and you're STILL not funny."

Lip laughed and Ian just shoved at his shoulder. "Still got a lifetime ahead of me for practice."

Ian rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as they arrived a the steps to the El. He declined a pull on the cigarette that Lip offered to him and Lip scratched at his nose.

"You hear anything from Karen yet?" Ian asked. Lip had been jumpy for a few days, snappy before that in the way he always was when it was about Karen. Ian had told Mandy once that Karen was like cancer and he was right. Even when she gone, she still left scars.

Lip sucked in a breath and Ian noticed that he didn't flinch at Karen's name like he used to. "Na, Sheila said she called once. Think it was mostly to get me off her back"

"Sheila back on her meds?"

Lip snorted, nodding his head. "Yeah, think I saw Frank slipping a bunch into his pocket though so doubt she'll be on them for long."

"He a permanent fixture round there now that Jody's gone?"

A look of poorly concealed amusement flashed over Lip's face "Nannying for Hymie."

"Frank's a nanny, huh?"

Lip nodded while Ian pondered whether Sheila's dosage had been upped, because there had to be a reason behind such poor judgement. "Debs said he's been slipping him some valium to get him to stop crying."

"Nanny of the year." Ian remarked dryly.

"Mmm" Lip sounded in agreement, mouth tight around the cigarette between his lips. "They should give him a trophy."

Ian glanced up the steps leading to the El as they stopped walking, it was quiet today. There weren't many people around, no queues or pushing. He stole the smoke from Lip and took one long drag before handing it back, eye closing against the stream of smoke that drifted up, flirting with his eyelashes. "You at school today?"

"Heading over to finish off my community service hours. I'll be fully rehabilitated as of about 4 o'clock this afternoon." Lip stated, his chest swelling with mock-pride. Ian just scoffed.

"And that'll last about, what, three hours before you're back to being a public menace?"

"Uh, GFY" Lip smiled tightly, his eyes crinkling. He shrugged his shoulders so his jacket sat more comfortably on his shoulders and Ian clapped him on the shoulder before jogging up the steps.

"Enjoy community service." He called out as he neared the top of the steps. As he reached the top he heard Lip yell back.

"Enjoy taking inventory."

#

"I Still got half a batch of meth to move before next week. Even that asshole Greg gets his shit from them now. Fucker should count himself lucky that I'm too damn busy to kick his fucking ass" Terry said to the patrons of the bar. He brought his beer to his lips and let the now-warm liquid pool into his mouth.

"How'd you think they did that?" Kev asked from behind the bar and Terry ignored him, bending over to take his shot on the pool table.

"Lower prices and intimidation tactics." Colin answered, nodding along with his words in that dopey way of his. Terry would have thought the kid was a retard if he wasn't so quick on his feet. Colin was one of his middle boys; not much to look at and not much between the ears, but he was good in a sticky situation and he could throw a decent right hook. He had saved the rest of them from a few shady deals in his time, had taken the rap twice for his brothers and he was loyal almost to a fault. The fucker knew the meaning of family, and damn it if that didn't make Terry proud.

"Looks like they took your ideas too, not just your customers." Tommy laughed from his barstool, beer from his glass splashing over his shirt.

"Shut your mouth Tommy." Terry sneered as he sent the balls skittering around the table. He thrust his pool cue at Colin and Colin scrambled to catch it. It clattered to the floor noisily and Colin blinked at the floor like he didn't know what to do for moment. Terry was silently regretting bringing him along with him to the bar when Frank walked in, bringing in a waft of B.O, piss and dog shit as well as a baby strapped to his chest.

"Good morning!" Frank greeted cheerfully as he strutted towards the bar, "Kev. Pour me and my little buddy here a drink." Terry left Colin and the pool cue to their staring contest, walked up to the bar and swallowed the last of his pride.

"You wanna buy something? I got shit I need to get rid of."

"Always good to see ya Terry." Frank patted his shoulder, looking alert at Terry's words.

"I got Oxy, some E's, a bunch of meth. Whatta ya want?" Frank made a point of eyeing Terry thoughtfully before he patted down the pockets of his cut off shirt and ripped jeans, coming up empty.

Terry just eyed him silently before sighing. "I'll sell you some more valium for the screaming brat?"

As if on cue the kid squirmed from where he was leant against Frank's chest, eyed Terry wearily and promptly burst into tears. Frank paused then, finger in the air, "I- y'know what? I might... I might just have enough for that."

Terry curled his lip at him, remembered why he stopped selling to scumbags like Frank in the first place. He watched as Frank pulled out $40 from the pocket of his jeans and Terry's mood soured.

"Price just went up to sixty."

Frank leant back in his stool, looking outraged. "$60? For a few pills?"

"Take it or leave it." He said firmly as Colin came and stood by his side, pool cue in hand and a stupid look on his face that Terry thought was supposed to make him look tough. The kid really needed to stop sampling his products.

"Uh..." Frank let out a grunting sigh. "Come on Terry."

Frank muttered under his breath to himself before reluctantly pulling out another twenty from his sock and handing it over to Terry. Terry gestured to Colin, feeling slightly more smug than he did five minutes ago, and Colin pulled out an orange tub of pills from his jacket.

"Nice doing business with you again, Gallagher."

"How's things with Casper?" Ian asked Mandy as she leant her head against his shoulder. He swung their interlocked arms higher and higher, faster and faster, until she pulled her head away with an annoyed frown on her face. He laughed and she pinched the skin on the back of his arm.

"Fine" she answered as he dropped her hand to rub the sore skin of his arm. He chose to ignore the winning smile on her face. "Wants me to meet his friends."

Ian noticed the sour way she said it, the way she ducked her head and confessed it to the ground. "What'd you say?" He felt the morning sun beat against the back of his neck. The chill he had previously felt on his arms gave way to a warmth that settled deep inside of him.

"That he can fuck off" Mandy screwed her face up, like she tasted something foul in her mouth. "What am I supposed to talk to them about? My minimum wage job where I have to wear a fucking squirrel on my head? While they talk about their fancy new cars and colleges and fucking masquerade balls?"

"Shut up, they'll love you," Ian promised as he slung an arm comfortingly around her shoulder and ruffled her bangs. "All crass and outspoken – you'll be their entertainment at the very least."

Mandy shoved at him and he just laughed as she battled the smile that fought it's way onto her face. Silence passed between them as they fell back in step with each other. Mandy tilted her head up to him,

"What do you get up to with my brother? Why are you hanging out with him?"

"We're friends." Ian replied automatically, feeling his heart beat too fast in his chest.

"Mickey doesn't have friends" she replied easily and Ian let out a rush of breath.

"Well we get along" he answered truthfully, "You know we do. He's got some gym equipment he's letting me use."

"Be careful" Mandy warned, her tone almost bored as if she'd had to repeat the sentence a hundred times before. She probably had. "And don't let him know about the gay thing - he'll kick your ass." Ian bit back a smirk and nodded.

"Thought you said he wasn't that bad?"

Mandy shrugged and kicked a piece of litter out of her way as they made their way down the block. Mandy had met Ian when he stepped off the El and informed him that they were hanging out at the store today whether he liked it or not. "He's not, least not anymore. But even the best members of my family – still assholes."

"That mean you are too?" Ian let out a laugh, ducking to avoid the swing of Mandy's fist as she aimed for the top of his arm. He jogged ahead of her, pushing his way through the door of the Kash 'n' Grab and holding it open for her as the bell above them dinged.

She narrowed her eyes as she stepped into the store, flipped him off as she walked past him and he chuckled to himself as he walked in behind her.

"You sure you don't mind covering for Kimmy?" Veronica asked as she poured the last of the industrial bottle of bleach down the toilet. She grimaced and turned her head away from the bowl as she crouched down to scrub at the shit stains splattered up the sides. "You know she just on some cranky ass comedown, she's not actually sick."

"I know" Fiona called from the bedroom, "but we could do with the money" she admitted and Vee could hear the tiredness in her voice, had seen it written on her face with dark circles smeared under her eyes like ink smudges.

"You could always do with the money" Vee told her as she dropped the stained brush back into it's pot and pulled the chain. She peeled off her gloves and dumped them into the plastic rubbish bag on the cleaning cart as she walked back into the bedroom. "What about sleep?" she asked, bending down to help pull another corner of the duvet into place "you look like you could do with some of that."

"Yeah thanks" Fiona tugged off one of her gloves and whipped it playfully at Vee. "I'm fine, I got a solid four hours in this morning. Plus the club closes early tonight, only got a five hour shift. Plus the kids all break up today, so we've got.. daycare, plus Ian can take on more hours. Lip's always good for a few hundred bucks. It's just for now."

Pulling some hand cream out of her purse that was sat on top of the cart, Vee began massaging it into her hands as Fiona pulled open the motel door. It was finally the end of their shift and she had been craving a chicken tikka sub all day. "Well take it easy tonight alright? Put your feet up, lay in, celebrate the beginning of summer. Fuck. I got a night in front of the camera. We're doing a feisty police officer/ criminal drug lord bit, people are apparently really into it."

"You the officer or the crime boss?" Fiona stepped out into the hallway after Vee and closed the door to the now-clean room.

"The crime boss" Vee smiled as they began walking towards the reception area. "Kev is the racist, no good cop who gets brought to his knees by the sass-talking black drug lord."

"Sounds... intense."

"Kev is so excited, been going on about it all week" Vee said as she put her earrings back into her ears, her every step jingling with the dangling jewellery. "I think he's just excited that I get to have him at my mercy in my tallest fuck-me pumps."

"He likes that?" Fiona asked, screwing up her face and Vee just shot her a look.

"It's Kev" She answered dryly, "he likes anything." They came to a stop in front of the narrow double doors that led into the reception. One of the doors was already propped open and Vee went to open the other one when Fiona reached out and put a hand over her arm, stopping her.

"What?" Fiona gestured over to the desk where Vee could see two boys, looked to be around Lip's age, standing to the side of... "Is that Walter?"

"Yeah. Ssh!" Both girls ducked behind the closed door, peeking their heads around the open door to get a good listen to what was being said.

"I mean it, okay?" Walter was saying, his voice firm but husky, strained as if he had been yelling. "No Milkoviches allowed here. And nobody they associate with. You understand what I'm saying?"

Saul, their short, balding Mexican boss nodded enthusiastically, beaming up at Walter from the other side of the desk. He was never anything but full of enthusiasm and joy and most days it drove Vee crazy. Nobody needed to see a smile that bright before they've had a coffee in the mornings. "I understand Mr. Roselli. I no let any of them in here any more"

"Good" Walter adjusted the lapels of his collar and cleared his throat uncomfortably as Saul smiled up at him.

"But what if they cause trouble, huh?" Saul wrung his hands in front of him, his smile still in place despite the show of uncertainty. "I call the police?"

"No" Walter answered hastily, before cooling himself. He had on black leather gloves and a long coat and Vee rolled her eyes because that was notappropriate for the weather they were currently having. "No you call me."

"Yes, sir" Fiona's hair blew into Vee's face as a young couple brushed past them out the doors, glancing down at them with a look of judgement. Veronica just pursed her lips and shot daggers up at the snot-nosed blonde who had the cheek to look down her nose at them. The girl tightened her grip on the arm of her boyfriend and hurried him out of the exit.

Walter's voice filled Veronica's ears before she could make a comment and Fiona just looked at her for a moment, amusement inching her eyebrows up towards her hairline. Vee brushed Fiona off with a flippant hand gesture and poked her head around the door, focusing on Walter. "And next week we'll talk about getting you that new office huh?"

"That'd be great Mr. Roselli. Thank you" Saul smiled and Walter stepped back with a nod.

"You think we should tell Terry? Or get Ian to let Mandy know? This is going to start getting out of hand" Fiona's teeth worried her bottom lip and her eyebrows were furrowed and Vee just shook her head as Walter shook Saul's hand, gloves still on.

"Hell no. Last thing we need is to get involved in some kind of Mob war. It ain't none of our business"

"She says as she crouches down behind the door, listening to what's none of her business"

"Bitch you're doing it too." They tried to muffle their laughter behind their hands but then Vee almost toppled forwards on to her face and Fiona lost it, a loud squeak of laughter escaping her before she managed to pull Vee back behind the door.

When Veronica had managed to compose herself she peered around the door to find one of the younger boys by Walter's side staring right at her. He was tall, he looked lean to the point of skinny in his baggy grey sweats and matching jumper, a red slogan printed across the front of it. He smirked at the two of them and Vee froze, wondered whether he would still be able to see her if she if she just stayed really, really still.

When they didn't react to his smirk, the guy – Ricky, she remembered from the few times she had gone with Kev to sort out the liquor for the bar – wiggled his eyebrows at them, his tongue flicking out repeatedly, suggestively. Her stomach turned at the arrogant look on his face. He was a guy that was clearly used to getting what he wanted.

Veronica shot him a judging look and stood up, brushing off her jeans and standing taller and prouder than a woman who had just spent the last five minutes on the floor hiding behind a door should be. She spared a glance back at Ricky and his face broke out into a grin as he grabbed at his crotch and thrust his hips toward them.

"Ooh that's just nasty." Her mouth turned down in distaste at the sight of him. She grabbed her purse and Fiona's arm and pulled her back the other way, back down the hall and abandoning the cleaning cart.

#

Walter watched Saul's eyebrows narrow, his smile freezing in confusion. He turned his head to Saul's line of sight and saw his nephew holding his dick through his sweatpants and humping the air.

"Ricky!" He bit out, smacking him upside the head. Ricky let out a sharp cry and turned to glare at him, rubbing the back of his head soothingly.

"What?!" Ricky snapped. Walter looked down the hallway, saw the backs of two women as they walked away, having clearly just been offended by his nephews actions. He shook his head in disappointment and Ricky's shoulders slumped.

"Less of that." He warned. "Gottit?" Ricky scuffed his feet against the ground and nodded his head solemnly.

"Yeah uncle Walter, I got it."

With a tip of his head to Saul, Walter left the motel and headed outside. He was tired, down a few thousand bucks and had a very pissed off father and a bratty nephew to drag around with him. And all thanks to those damn Milkovich kids.

He heard a scuffle of feet behind him, some noises of protest before he heard Jace let out a sigh, "Rick, don't be such an ass. Get off!"

Walter turned round to the sight of Ricky hanging off of Jace, his arms crossed tight around his neck as Jace tried to move forwards with the added weight. Ricky was laughing like it was hilarious until he caught Walter's unamused stare and jumped down.

After a beat of silence and pissed off glaring from Ricky, Walter carried on walking to his car. He had too much to do today, too many favours to ask and pride to swallow and the last thing he needed was his nephew acting up. God knows why he ever agreed to take Ricky under his wing. He never liked the kid much – not when he was an infant and even less now. He had an attitude, a sour outlook. Ricky was nothing like his Jace, Jace was a good boy – quiet and humble, he never fought unless it was necessary. He kept his head down and got on with things. But Ricky was different. Ricky thought the world owed him a favor and that he was deserving of everything without ever having to earn it. But the brat looked so much like his mother, and Walter had always had a soft spot for his sister-in-law, that he always found himself giving in and letting Ricky come along with him anyway.

"I thought you liked ass, huh Jacey boy?" Walter opened the door to his car and saw the teasing, amused grin slide from Ricky's face as Jace stuck his foot out and Ricky tripped over it. Walter felt himself smile as he face planted the ground.

Jace laughed loudly, his head tipping back with it and his whole body vibrating with the noise. He had always laughed with his entire body, even as a baby he would clench his fists and kick his feet as he giggled or pull at the blonde tufts of hair on his head. Walter loved his son in these moments – they didn't happen often. Jace was always so reserved and quiet, never quite comfortable around people. He had always been that way, especially after his mother left them when Jace was only nine. He had mourned the loss of his mother like she was dead, and she might as well have been for all that Jace saw her after that. He hadn't heard anything from her in the years that had passed and Jace had taken it hard. He retreated into himself, became a shell of a person for a long time. He had always known that when Jace looked in the mirror he saw his mother, with their matching blonde hair and green eyes, rather than a Roselli. He had begged Walter to let him dye his hair for years, but Walter had always refused. His mother was a part of him and Walter loved that part of him just as much as he loved every other part.

Walter had made a mistake, had believed that his mother's departure was the only reason that Jace had tried to hide himself away and closed himself off from his family.

But then when he was fourteen Walter had walked in on him jerking off to a muscle magazine and everything had made sense.

Jace had sobbed in his arms and apologised, begged Walter to forgive him, cried over ruining the family's honour, but he hadn't understood. Walter's own tears were not for what Jace had been doing or his sexuality, it was because for the first time in many years Walter understood his son again. He finally knew who his son was, had a piece of him back that had been lost years before. Jace hadn't understood that he had not destroyed the family's honour, but he had repaired it. By letting Walter in he had made them a family again and that beat out any possible negative feelings that Walter had about his son's sexuality.

Slowly, after that things had become good again. Jace came out of his shell in inches – he spoke at the dinner table again, told stories of his days at school. He joined Walter on the weekends, spent days playing mini golf and preparing big meals for the family. It took a long time for Jace to accept that his sexuality was not an issue for the family – as long as there was love it didn't matter who it was with. Walter's own father had cheered the day Jace willingly knocked on the door to his office, happy to have his grandson, his luce del sole, back in his arms. He had spent over an hour interrogating the first boy that Jace brought home for dinner.

Walter didn't like Ricky much, but the day Jace came out to him Ricky just slung an arm around his shoulder and swore that he would beat up any guy that ever hurt his little cousin. Jace had shoved him away and told him that he could take care of his own battles and Ricky had scoffed, teased him about having a limp wrist, and Jace had just smiled. From that day on a weight had been lifted from Jace's shoulders. He was still quiet, in the way he had always been, but he was better. And it was in moments like this one, where Jace's whole body shook with laughter and he seemed so carefree, that Walter truly appreciated how far things had come for them all.

It made days like today, where he had to kiss the asses of everybody he had business with and everybody that had been affected by his family's feud with the Milkoviches, completely worth it.

"You still wanna do something after work? I got a copy of that new James Franco film." Ian stuck his feet up on the counter, leaning back in his chair. He turned the page of his magazine and glanced up to see that Mickey was already looking at him with a kinked eyebrow, doing his best to look disinterested.

"Don't know what you see in that frog-looking asshole. He's got a mouth the size of a fucking melon."

"He's hot" Ian countered, "Plus have you seen him as James Dean? Or in that Eat Pray Love?"

"No I've not seen him as James Dean" Mickey griped almost petulantly, shuffling the playing cards between his palms. Ian snorted at the annoyed expression on Mickey's face, at the way the cards bent slightly, the edges curling in Mickey's tightened grip.

"So we watching the movie or not?"

Mickey scratched the side of his head with his thumb, scattering the cards messily on the counter as he dropped them with an air of impatience, irritated at something that ran deeper than Ian's teasing about another guy. "Na man, dad's freaking out. Gotta sell a bunch of shit tonight."

"He still not going to apologize to Walter, let the whole thing go?"

"Fuck no, man" Mickey answered, like the idea was absurd. "My dad's not a pussy"

"Apologizing doesn't make you a pussy." Mickey didn't respond and Ian dropped his feet from the counter and stood up. Mickey had arrived almost on time today – only an hour late. The store had been dead thanks to some big offer on booze at the 7-11 three blocks over so they had had a lot of time to themselves between the few customers that Mickey managed to pull in. He had only sold to three people; downbeat, greasy looking hippies that were out to get high and pretend they were changing the world. Every single one of them looked suspicious and Ian's nerves had itched under his skin at the sight of them. They had left without fuss and caused no trouble but, with all of Mickey's customers, his nerves had jumped and twitched, somersaulting at the raised voices and throaty laughs. He didn't know whether it was the thought of Linda's young boys sitting, oblivious and engrossed in the TV, upstairs or whether it was just one too many bad memories of growing up with Frank, but it unsettled him and made him fidgety and restless. "As long as you're not doing your business in my store." He said, aiming for casual but not quite hitting the mark.

"Not your fucking store, man." Ian ignored the jibe, an old argument that had become nothing more than playful banter. He pulled two beers out of the fridge and twisted their caps off, lingering for a moment as the cold air brushed over him.

"Shut up" he said in response to Mickey's teasing grin and thrust the beer too hard into his waiting palm.

"Carl - damnit Carl, no more jumping off the balcony" Lip yelled. His tank and crotch were soaked through. He spat the pool water from his mouth and reached for a towel off of the banister. "Yeah, later Fi!" Fiona had already disappeared round the corner, the clacking of her work heels sounding rhythmically along the pavement as she made her way to V's.

Carl emerged from under the water with a bleeding head and a wide, dopey smile and Lip let out an exasperated sigh. "That was awesome." Carl's grin widened, but his eyes were hooded as the blood began to trickle a path down his temple.

"Ju-" Lip ran a hand down his face before lifting Carl upright and helping him out of the pool. He stood on wobbly legs and Lip tipped his head back to check the wound "Debs, can you run him to V's before Fi take off for work? Make sure he's not got a concussion or something."

"On it" she was already stepping out of the pool, her costume clinging to her as water dripped in puddles at her feet . Carl swayed for a moment when Lip let go of him, letting out a stoned laugh, his eyes crossing with what looked like some kind of dizzy spell.

"Everything okay?" A voice asked, sounding almost amused. Lip whipped round to see Mandy standing there, just inside the gate, surveying the scene in front of her with folded arms and crinkled eyebrows. They raised at the sight of the blood pouring from Carl's forehead and Lip looked between the two of them, his brother and Mandy, and just shrugged,

"...Kid's a fucking psychopath." he offered up as an excuse and Mandy's lip tugged up into a wry smile,

"Duh." She answered, as if Lip was stupid for ever thinking otherwise. She dropped her weight onto her right foot, tucked her hand into the back pocket of her shorts and watched quietly for a moment as Debbie wrapped her arm around Carl and walked him out of the back yard. "Ian home yet?"

"Na, staying late" He patted his damp pockets, suddenly, desperately wanting a cigarette. "Taking inventory."

"He's been doing that a lot lately."

Lip felt a smirk fight it's way on to his face before he managed to school his features. He had known about Mickey and Ian since Mickey's first stint in juvie and, admittedly, he hadn't suspected a thing before that. He had been under the assumption that somehow Mickey and his little brother had become friends, bonding over fucked up families and a shared passion of blades. But now, seeing how the two boys were around each other, how obvious they were when they thought nobody was looking – it truly baffled him that the entire neighborhood didn't know about what the two boys got up to during their breaks at the Kash 'n' Grab. "Uh, yeah." he said, "Think he wants to save money, make sure he's got a little stashed away for college."

Mandy frowned, "He's got like a whole year to wait?"

"And a whole year to save." Lip replied smartly. Mandy just shrugged and pulled a face.

"You going to college?" The question came out like she was just asking to be polite, but there was a genuine curiosity written in the twist of her lips and the shine of her eyes and Lip just scratched at his head, turning to the banister of the stairs to pull his smokes out of his jacket pocket.

"Fuck no" He snorted, more relaxed with his cigarettes in his hand. "Got my diploma, don't need a lifetime of debt to go on top of that."

"Haven't you got like a crazy good GPA?" Mandy was closer now even though Lip didn't remember seeing her step forward.

"So?" He asked, playing off like he was genuinely confused at her question rather than admitting that he had heard her argument a thousand times over from Fiona and Ian and Kev and, fuck, even Frank one particularly drunk night at the Alibi.

"Whatever" Mandy said casually, "If wasting your life away in this shit hole neighbourhood is what you wanna do, your choice."

Lip felt both relieved and disappointed that she had dropped the subject so quickly. He brought an unlit cigarette to his mouth and smirked. "That your plan? Get a 'crazy good' GPA and fuck off outta here? Or are you going to use Casper the friendly ghost for that?"

Mandy frowned at him with pursed lips and Lip's smirk only grew, "Fuck you."

"How was your date?" he asked, not missing a beat as he lip up his cigarette. A smile simmered on Mandy's lips.

"I ordered the lobster." She spoke like it was a confession and Lip poked his tongue out of his mouth, rubbing it over his bottom lip for a second.

"And?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"It was fucking gross" her face screwed up with disdain. "You know those things are still alive when they cook them? Give me burger and fries any day."

He let out a snort of laughter "Can take the girl outta the South Side..."

Lip paused as Mandy's face fell for a moment, her eyes cast down and her mouth tightening. The expression disappeared as quickly as it came and Lip found himself scratching his thumb awkwardly along his cheek. "You wanna come in and wait?"

"Wait?"

"For Ian." He clarified and Mandy's expression brightened in realization.

"Oh, uh..."

"I'll be on Carl duty for the rest of the night, making sure he doesn't pass out."

"You making dinner?" she asked, her fingers trailing along her slender stomach like she was hungry.

"Spaghetti and meatballs."

A small smile grew on her face and she stepped closer. "Any going spare?"

Lip nodded and Mandy smiled wider. He turned and jogged up the stairs, hearing the scuffle of her feet as she followed behind him.

Mickey swept up his sweat damp shirt from the ground and pulled it over his head. It bunched up around his chest, the grey fabric coming to rest just below his pecs. "Man, that was good." He said, trying to catch his breath as he ripped open the lid of a tube of BBQ Pringles. "Almost as good as these." He teased, crunching down on a handful of Pringles. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth as he smiled at Ian, BBQ dust coating his lips. Ian lit up a cigarette and ignored him as he zipped up the fly of his jeans, instead watching as the fabric of Mickey's vest slowly climbed down his sweat-shined skin with each of his movements.

"You really gotta head off now?" he asked as Mickey noisily chewed on the mess of crisps in his mouth.

"Already missed two calls from my dad, man, he's going to kick my ass."

"Alright." Ian answered as nonchalantly as he could. He leant over and held out the cigarette to Mickey. Picking up Ian's shirt from the ground, Mickey dangled the vest between two dust coated fingers and made a muffled noise around the Pringles that were filling his mouth. Ian rolled his eyes at what a romantic his almost-boyfriend was.

"Tomorrow?" He asked as he slipped the shirt over his head. Mickey wiped his fingers against his jeans and shrugged, mouth still half full,

"Can't get in before two." He replied, words barely making sense as he crunched down on his crisps.

"Your shift starts at 11" Ian said pointedly as he took the Pringles away from Mickey, who's hand was now stuck in the narrow tube.

"Cover for me." Mickey looked longingly at the tube of Pringles before apparently deciding he was over them and instead just noisily sucked the dust from his fingers.

"I've been covering for you" Ian complained, slamming the tube down with too much force. Mickey's head reeled back like Ian had offended him with the action. "Jeez Mickey. I have a life too. Y'know?"

"Whatever" Mickey groaned, "You covering my shift for a couple of hours or not?"

Ian felt tension writhing under his skin and he couldn't explain it. He had been feeling it all afternoon, had felt something grate against his chest, flaking away at something inside of him as he watched Mickey become more and more restless and antsy. Mickey was on edge in a way he hadn't been for a long time and as fewer and fewer of his customers answered their phones, as even less arrived at the store, Ian could see the stress fall over Mickey's face like a mask, ageing him before Ian's eyes. Mickey hadn't snapped, hadn't yelled, hadn't bitched. He hadn't complained about anything all afternoon. He had joked and laughed and read his magazines like usual, but it was all forced. His laugh was stilted and he kept glancing at his phone every few seconds, distracted by whatever it was he wasn't talking about.

"...Fine" He relented. "I'm not doing it again after tomorrow."

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him and Ian just let a breath out of his nose before walking out of the store room before Mickey could say anything.

Less than a minute later Mickey walked by him with the tube of Pringles in his hand and a sarcastic smile on his face before his exit was announced with the ding of the bell above the door.

"Ignore him" Debbie kicked her feet against Carl's chair under the table, "he's just mad cause I kicked his butt on the Xbox earlier."

"Yeah cause you cheated" Carl protested.

"Did not" Debbie yelled.

"Did too" Carl yelled louder.

"Not" She slammed her fist on to the table, making the cutlery jump.

"Enough!" Lip ordered, settling the two with placating hand gestures. "Eat your dinner." he gestured to the plates in front of them and Debbie grumbled under her breath while Carl glared down at his plate before picking up his glass of orange juice and sucking on the straw until the only sound in the room was the noises of him slurping the straw in the now empty glass.

"How's your head?" Mandy asked him as she stabbed at a meatball with her fork and he just smiled up at her, nodding his head.

"Awesome" Mandy tilted her head to look up at Lip, who was shaking his head with a small smile. Carl had repeated that same word every time somebody asked him how he was feeling.

"You ever hear the story of the time he broke his arm jumping in front of a car?" Debbie asked and Mandy screwed her face up.

"On purpose?"

"Another one of Frank's well planned scams" Lip snorted as he took a swig of his beer.

"Did it work?"

"Got five grand" Carl smiled proudly and Lip drummed his fingers against the table.

"Of which we saw exactly nothing" he pointed out.

"Or what about the time he made me swing the baseball bat at his head to test his neck strength?"

"It was to test the helmet" Carl argued and Debbie groaned, her eyes all but rolling into the back of her head.

"Was not."

"Was too."

Carl flicked his fork at Debbie and spaghetti and sauce splattered up her top. She let out a shocked gasp as she took in the mess and Carl laughed for a moment. Then Debbie's eyes narrowed at him and he flew out of his chair, running for the stairs as Debbie grabbed a handful of meatballs and ran after him.

Lip twisted in his seat at the head of the table to look at them as Carl tripped over his feet in his scramble to get up the stairs. He laughed to himself as he heard the squelching sound of a meatball connecting with Carl's head as the two siblings disappeared out of sight.

He turned round and saw Mandy smiling as she looked over at the now empty staircase. She met his eyes and her mouth twisted as she looked at him, her eyes shining almost happily, "Kids huh?" he said lamely.

"Yeah" Mandy said just as a loud thud sounded from upstairs, followed by the sounds of Debbie's muffled yelling and Carl's yelps of protest.

Mandy just snorted at the sounds, looking down at her plate, before she twisted some spaghetti on her fork and brought it to her lips.

Lip looked at her and felt a smile pull at his lips. A small, content smile. He may not be Casper, but he has this.

He caught himself looking at her a moment too long and it was only then that he realised that she was smiling back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, considering he's a colossal douche (to put it politely) Terry is super fun to write. And so is Walter. But Lip is kind of hard, I don't feel intelligent enough to write from his POV so I just kind of focus on the other aspects of his personality – his need to self-destruct and his protectiveness over his siblings. And trying to write expressions is hard. I forget how to word and don't know how to describe looks so just pretend that I do it really, really well haha.**

**But whatever, slightly shorter chapter than usual but it's all kicking off. So there. Read, review, enjoy. (Reviews make me super duper happy).**

**Also I won't have internet until the first of next month, so updates won't happen until after then. It's also my birthday on the 23****rd**** and I actually have some form of plans this year – a day out in LANDAN and my friend from Canada is visiting and we have plans to get our drink on which I'm super excited about.**

* * *

Weeks passed in the same fashion as before – long, sweaty days pounding the streets; trying to keep their customers coming in and their income up, followed by dark, chilly nights that seemed to stretch on and on. Terry and his boys had been tossed out of every bar, club and business that Walter had so much as breathed around. People swore their loyalty to Terry, but refused to risk their livelihoods by disrespecting Walter and Caro. While Mickey and Iggy had finally managed to shift most of their gear and keep hold of a few customers – the down and out crackhead sort that didn't care for rivalries and gang wars, who didn't care where there fix was from as long as they got it – they still hadn't managed to break even. Terry had Mandy pulling extra shifts at the diner she worked at, skipping school to keep the extra money coming in. She had even started selling gear from the diner to help out.

She complained about having to miss out on time with her new boyfriend, some rich kid that Mickey grumbled about under his breath whenever Mandy mentioned him, but she always pulled her weight. She was a hard worker his Mandy, and when she dressed right and smiled all pretty she really brought the customers in. She was a lot like her mother; feisty and tough, same build, same hair, stronger than any of her shithead brothers.

The heat from the sun had Terry's feet feeling uncomfortable and heavy in his shoes. It burned at his face, turned his cheeks an angry shade of red. Sweat dampened the collar and the underarms of his shirt. And he was pissed off. He had just been forced to leave the store where he usually got his tobacco, which meant he no longer had a way of getting any cheap nicotine and he was running low. He was already feeling the pull in the back of his throat for a smoke and he had no time to stop off at the Kash 'n' Grab.

For the third time today his phone had lit up with an incoming call from the spa. They had been harrassing him constantly since the flood and he knew that he couldn't avoid them much longer. He was nearby so he let the phone call go to voicemail and instead crossed the street and shoved his way through the front door.

He was met with a bunch of sad-faced, dead eyed girls looking up at him in various states of undress. Smoke and the smell of sweat and stale jizz hung heavy in the air.

"Terry! You here. We been waiting for hours." One of the girls moved to stand up and he gestured for her to sit back down. She shot him a maddened look, but seemed to notice the threads of his patience wearing thin because she complied without argument. "We have no work for two days Terry. We go hungry." She continued, her accent stilted and broken, her voice deep, as she pulled her black silk robe tight around her.

"Yes please Mr. Terry" He looked to see a short, blonde-haired girl staring up at him with pleading eyes. She was one of the Polish girls that Sasha had shipped in last month, he'd never spoken to her before but he vaguely remembered seeing her the night of the flood. The pleading look might've worked on him if her eyes weren't so glassy and out of focus. He wasn't here to support a whore's habit, he was here for business. "You need to sort things out." She pouted her lips and shot him a look that made Terry reconsider. He hadn't visited the spa since before the flood and with lips like hers he would definitely be planning a visit soon. He raked his eyes over her, taking her in, and her lips curled up flirtatiously as she stuck her chest out at him.

"Terry!" Terry snapped his head to the girl in the black robe. She had a steely look in her eyes and she lifted her chin at his glare, defiant. He let out a resigned sigh at the determined look on her face and he gave in. Normally he would give her a smack or get a freebie and make sure she knew her place, knew who the boss was, but between the lack of cigarettes and the memory of Pete Tovey's dick with deep indents in in the shape of her teeth, he thought better of it. He had a reputation to keep, sure, but he wasn't stupid. Terry muttered to himself for a moment before pulling out what little money he had on him and handing it to the Russian in the black robe.

She was tall, pretty under all the make up, had been working for him since last May when Sasha brought over four girls from some run down ghetto in Russia. Terry didn't care to know much about what went on behind the scenes of the spa, had only brought the place to settle an old debt with Sasha's ex partner, but he knew one thing – Sasha had struck gold when she had brought the Russian in. She was strong-willed and knew what she wanted, when she said no she meant it. She kept her nose clean and she took all the new girls under her wing, taught them the way the job worked and what was expected. She made the best out of a bad situation and that was a trait that had earned Terry's admiration. "Get yourselves something to eat, then I want you straight back to work until you make up the money that I'm losing here, you got it?"

"But nobody comes." the Russian stressed and Terry clenched his jaw.

"Then make them." He gritted out. He patted down his pockets looking for the last of his cigarettes.

"It's the Rosellis, Terry," she continued, ignoring the fiery look on Terry's face. "They keep the men away, threaten them. Give them better prices with different girls."

Lower prices and intimidation. Of course. "Just get to work!" he snapped, loud enough for a few of the more sober girls to flinch at the sound.

He threw the front door open and the windows shook as the door slammed back against the wall and he left, back out on to the streets of Chicago.

"You're too fucking smart to be wasting your time with these guys every day." Kev called out before the door to the Alibi had even swung closed.

"This again?" Lip asked, tucking his cigarette behind his ear as he perched on a bar stool. It seemed like his entire network of friends and family had joined together to get on his ass every chance they could about college. The only solace he found was the few hours in the afternoon when he babysat Liam. Fiona didn't seem to mind then that he had free time, but when she found him stoned on the front porch at noon suddenly he was 'wasting his potential'. The only person that wasn't lecturing him lately was Ian – and that was because Ian had decided that Lip was 'smart, but too dumb to do anything about it'. Well that and he was too busy pouting about Mickey lately – but even hearing about that was better than more rants about college.

"I will happily tell you the same thing every day if it gets your ass into college" Kev said, "Or at least in work."

"I work." Lip objected, gesturing to a drying pint glass beside Kev. Kev picked it up without missing a beat, drying it with the dish towel that hung over his shoulder as he looked at Lip.

"Scamming people and taking entrance exams and S.A.T.S is not the same thing as working."

Lip scoffed, scratched at his bottom lip with his thumb and looked down at the counter. "I got things lined up" He said.

"Is _college_ one of those things?" Kev asked and Lip stayed silent, choosing to fiddle with the beer mat instead.

Kev placed a beer down in front of him and opened his mouth to say more when the door was kicked open and Mickey walked in. Lip had never been happier to see a Milkovich boy in his life. "Ay yo you seen my dad?"

Kev began pouring Mickey a beer and shot Lip a look that told him that their previous conversation wasn't over just yet. "Nah, should be in soon though."

Mickey looked between Lip and Kev before settling down on the bar stool. Lip checked the clock on the wall behind Kev, a beaten up old ticker that Stan had only put up to know when the football or baseball started. He bit down on a loose thread of skin on his bottom lip, took a swig of his beer and swallowed down the bitter liquid and the urge to remind Mickey that his shift started a half hour ago. Ian had been restless all morning waiting for his shift to start, hoping to finally see Mickey. Judging by the stressed out state Mickey was in, Lip figured he was in for another night of Ian's snapping and pacing and bitching.

"Walter still giving you your booze?" Mickey asked, hiking up the fabric of his trousers and scratching at his calf with his foot.

"Yeah." Kev answered, "What little he's managed to get hold of. Told him I'm not getting involved man. The Alibi is like Switzerland."

Mickey's eyebrows pulled together in tired confusion. "What?"

"Neutral zone," Kev clarified, "not getting involved man. Impartial third party. The safe zone. The..."

"I got it!" Mickey snapped, sniffing loudly as rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"You look like shit, man" Lip said, swallowing a sip of his beer. Mickey's lips were pale, colourless and chapped, his face drawn and almost gaunt with tiredness and stress. He had a few days worth of stubble growing along his jawline and his hair, while still styled, clearly hadn't been washed in a while. He looked rougher than Lip had seen him look in a long time.

"Fuck you, Gallagher."

"You do look kind of puffy faced" Kev agreed, putting one hand on his hip. He gestured with his pinkie finger to the dark, bruise-like circles under Mickey's eyes, the bloating of his cheeks. Mickey just glared at him. "Dark circles too," Kev continued, un-intimidated and confident in the way only a man of Kev's height and build and life experience could be. "You stay up all night?" He asked with a growing grin, "Hey that Angie Zhago was in here looking for you the other day. You hit that?" Lip laughed as Kevin grinned, his teeth covering his bottom lip before he mimed holding onto a girls hips and thrusting forward. Mickey just looked at him blankly before taking a long swig of beer and shaking his head.

"Na man, Walter and his guys are still trying to force my old man outta business. Been up for two nights straight, figured I might aswell snort the coke if nobody's buying it."

Kev shrugged with both his mouth and his shoulders as if Mickeys reasoning was completely acceptable. And given Kev's penchant for dabbling with coke, It surprised Lip in precisely zero ways. "Thought you got rid of most of it?"

"Still not enough man" Mickey belched, "Dad had to fork out a bunch on that hit on Colin's old lawyer last month. We barely broke even." It showed how tired and out of it Mickey was that he was even revealing that much information, Lip knew that Mickey was smart when it came to keeping his mouth shut. Fuck, Lip knew more than most just how good Mickey was at keeping things a secret.

"Well Independence Day is coming up next month, man." Kev replied, drumming his hands on the edge of the bar, "Blow, booze and half naked girls. You'll be sold out." He reassured, seeing the tired way Mickey's body seemed to sag against the bar.

"Your dad planning anything to get them back?" Lip asked, swallowing down a mouthful of beer. He normally kept his nose out of business that wasn't his own, only got involved when he was asked or when it was necessary, but Ian had been pacing a hole in the bedroom floor for the last couple of days, silently worrying about Mickey's antics and the ever escalating feud between the two families and it was starting to wear on Lip's last nerve. While he definitely preferred the worrying over the complaints about Lips future, it was still annoying and he hated seeing his brother so worked up. "Or he just going to apologize?"

"What is it with you fucking Gallaghers? No he's not going to apologize." Kev looked up at Lip and they shared a look as Mickey yawned into the back of his hand. "He's done some of the usual shit. He's getting pissed off though."

"Isn't he always pissed off?" Kev joked just as Terry slammed his way through the door with his mouth turned down in anger. Kev shot Mickey a pointed look, 'told you so' written in the arch of his brows and Mickey just raised his eyebrows back, unimpressed.

Terry stomped up to the bar and pushed himself in the space between Mickey and Lip, his shoulders hunched over and sweat stains visible through his plaid shirt. The sleeves had been cut off but the tops of his arms were pale, a farmers tan and clothing style that apparently run in the family. "Beer." He ordered and Kev, never missing a beat, just smiled brightly.

"Good afternoon to you too Terry. Beer, was it?"

With an unimpressed look to rival his son's, Terry slammed his wallet down on the bar. "Don't fuck around Kev, I'm not in the mood."

"Sure" Kev responded dryly, "Right away" He pulled a glass out from under the bar and got to work pouring Terry's drink. Lip wiped the moisture from around his mouth and watched with bored interest as Terry turned to Mickey, his voice gruff and his sweaty armpits far too close to Lips face.

"Why the fuck aren't you out working?" He demanded and Mickey groaned like he was completely done with everything.

"Jeez dad, I can't take a fucking break?"

"Not when it's costing me money."

"Get off my back alright? I've been working two days straight" Mickey bit,rubbing his nose with the heel of his hand and sniffing roughly. He leant forward on the bar, resting his elbows on the countertop and pressing his fingertips into his eyes.

Lip just shot Kev a look over the rim of his pint glass and busied himself doing anything that didn't involve listening to the tense conversation going on beside him.

Her dress inched up her thighs, the fabric bunching up with every slight movement. Warm air blew across her and she had never been more hyper-aware of the amount of skin she had on show, her pale legs standing out in stark contrast against the deep red tones of her dress. The fabric of her dress scratched over her skin, rough and uncomfortable. All around her were women, poised and elegant and beautiful. Their backs were straight and their hair glossy and perfect. Expensive looking necklaces hung around their necks and Mandy's chest ached with the absence of one, as if having a piece of jewellery could make her feel like she belonged there. In a restaurant on a side of town that she had never ventured before she met Casper; in a dress that she would never have considered wearing before she met Casper, before he showed up at her front door with his warm, earnest smile and his eager-to-please attitude, the dress in his arms, a gift just for her.

"Is your dinner good? Does it taste nice?"

Mandy nodded, blinking rapidly as she tried to swallow a lump of fish around a bitter tasting sauce. She managed to cover her cough with her glass, swallowing down a large gulp of wine until she could no longer taste the food as it turned to mush in her mouth. The wine tasted just as bad – rich and fruity, it tasted of sour grapes and wealth, it stained her tongue and her teeth blood red and was nothing like the $6 bottles that she was used to.

She shifted in her seat, crossed and uncrossed her legs and tried not to disrupt the fabric of her dress too much. It scratched and itched at her skin and her hair was too hot against the back of her neck. She felt too sweaty and too awkward and she was sat in an uncomfortable chair in front of a table with candles that she had almost burned herself on twice already, in front of a bottle of wine that she had almost knocked over and a plate of food that smelled even worse than it tasted.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." She answered shortly as a bead of sweat trailed down the back of her neck and soaked into the collar of her dress. Casper smiled tightly at her, his eyes full of doubt and Mandy felt a pang of guilt. She reminded herself to sit up straighter, to use the second fork and not the third one. She reminded herself to square her shoulders and lift her chin, sip the wine don't swig it. "Yours taste good?"

"Really good. You want to try some?" Mandy looked to her left, saw a tiny, frail looking stick of a woman smile politely at her husband, who's gut was about to bust open the button of his slacks, and shake her head at the forkful of food offered to her.

"Uh, no" She declined, before rushing to add "Thanks." She scratched at the back of her neck and tried to drown out the murmur of voices around her. Sit up straight, use the second fork, sip the wine don't swig it.

"You're sure everything's okay?"

Despite her trembling fingers, she told herself yes. This is what people did. This was normal, this was dating. With a boy that cared and had plans and believed she was worth something. Smile. Sit up straight. Sip, don't swig.

"Why haven't we fucked yet?" she blurted out. Her chest felt like it caved in on her when she realised what she had said, everything becoming tight, tunnel vision took over and it became hard to breathe. She gulped at her wine, swigging down until the glass was drained and the taste of gone off grapes was thick and heavy on her tongue. "I..." she uncrossed her legs and tried not to notice the few tables across from them staring directly at her.

"Uh..." Casper stuttered as he looked around him at the other people and his cheeks flushed pink, "Uh… I ...I just wanted to take things slow."

"Slow?" She asked, glaring at the stick woman whose gaze lingered a moment too long on Casper.

"Yeah," Casper ducked his head, leant in closer until Mandy was able to see the strange shades of blue and green that made up his eyes, lit up by the candlelight. A small smile inched shyly onto his face and he looked at her, taking her hand in his. "I... I wanted to... I want to show you that I respect you."

Mandy's lip curled in confusion and she resisted the urge to pull her hand out from under his. "Respect?" Respect was always something her father had told her you earned out on the streets. Respect was something her father had spent years gaining so that when their surname was spoken it was said with it, respect gripped tight and dripping from every letter. Respect was something that was earned with blood and violence and years of slogging away at the bottom of the barrel until you proved yourself and climbed to the top. Respect had nothing to do with sex.

Casper laughed and Mandy didn't get the joke. "Yes." he answered, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"What's so funny?" She asked and Casper's expression softened.

"You" He answered with an ease that she rarely saw in him. He squeezed her hand tighter "You're so cute."

"Cute." She echoed quietly, the word foreign on her tongue. She frowned down at her empty glass for a moment, thinking, before she made her decision. Her insecurities drowned in determination as she looked up at him. She sat up straighter, lifted her chin and for that moment she was just like every other woman there. "You want to get out of here?"

Casper's eyes widened, the strange shade of blue/green in his eyes blown away into black and Mandy's confidence grew. She didn't know much, but she knew this. She knew men and she knew how to take control. "Uh... sure. Sure." She knew how to make men stutter. How to make their hands shake and their fingers tremble. "Where to?" She knew how to make them realise what they wanted.

"Your place, dumbass." she smiled at his startled expression and pulled on her jacket, feeling more comfortable and more herself than she had all evening.

Casper just looked at her, his eyes wide and his breathing slightly heavier. He stared until she began to fidget in her seat. She smiled at him, a feral little grin as she looked at him through her lashes. His hand shot up in the air like a crack of lightning,

"Bil- The bill please!"

Terry walked down the street, his cigarette dangling loosely from his lip. The cherry burned down, the smoke clouding around him in the windless air. The air was too warm, his skin too sticky, his shirt damp from the exertion of walking in the humid weather. Mickey and Iggy were flanked either side of him, Iggy breathing heavy – his lung was never the same after his rib had punctured it back when he was a kid. You could hear him coming from a mile away just from the heavy raking sound of his breath.

On his other side, Mickey was quiet. He had been all day. Just stood there chewing on the skin of his thumb – a habit he had always had whenever he felt stressed or antsy. He'd been chewing on the damn thing all day, Terry was surprised it hadn't started bleeding yet. His antsiness was probably from all the damn coke the kid was sniffing, like he thought Terry didn't know.

Never smoke, snort or inject your profit – make your money and be done with it. That was the rule Terry had always taught his kids. Mandy understood it, she never spent a dime of her money unless it was necessary. She had small jars of cash stashed around the house, ready for when they got red letters or one of the boys needed bailing out, she stole the clothes she wanted and earned her smoke for the week. Colin was good with his money too, although that was because he stole everything and was in prison more often than not so he never actually had any. Iggy spunked his down the drain the minute he got it, but Mickey used to be good. He used to be better. It started with dipping into his weed – a few joints here and there. He'd disappear for hours and come back high as a kite and covered in hickeys. Whatever girlfriend he had he didn't seem to mind losing money for. Terry just hoped the sex was worth it. Not that any girl was worth losing money for, the bitches would only complain when they weren't able to spend it.

Terry had been worried before – his son was never much of a looker as a kid; too short and ugly as sin, covered in bruises and dirt and he had a nasty attitude. But somewhere along the line he had grown up – still short, he got that from his mother, but he grew into his looks and then the girls started coming. Chubby girls mostly, or the desperate ones that got it wherever they could, but who was Terry to judge? He'd had his fair share of dogs in his time. His son had hickeys on his neck and a grin on his face all the damn time. Terry had let the weed slide seen as his son was finally getting laid, but if coke was now becoming an issue then he would have to put his foot down. There's a few things Terry will tolerate – and a cokehead son that's losing him money is not one of them.

"You sell anything today kid?" Terry asked as ash dropped from his cigarette.

"Some" Iggy answered, "I spent half the afternoon on the run from the cops though. Had to go right out to Westridge just to get some decent sales."

Terry grunted in response as he flicked the butt of his burnt out cigarette to the ground. "Those fucking whores at the spa have been on my case all damn day."

"I had the guys at the junkyard on mine, wanting to know about insurance and shit." Mickey added and Terry turned to glance at him. Mickey shrugged, "Told them it'd be another couple weeks, gave them some free coke as a pacifier. Tony and Julian were okay with it, Ant was still bitching, said something about a wife and a kid at home. So I gave him enough to cover a week, said we'll dock it from his wages when they get sorted." Terry eyed his son for a moment, wondered when that chubby little dirt-coated brat that used to follow him around everywhere had grown up and become a chip off the old block, someone that knew how to run a business and handle all the trouble thrown his way. If this was the way Mickey dealt with his shit, Terry could forget about a few grams of coke.

He sniffed and shook his head, "I tell ya if these guys keep screwing with me and my money I'm going to start knocking heads. I'm getting fucking sick o'..."

"Yo, ain't that one of Walter's kids?" Iggy asked, hitting the back of his hand against Terry's arm.

"A nephew I think. Alex, right?" Mickey sniffed and Terry smirked. The boy across the street noticed them then and a look of fear flashed in his eyes. Good. Terry's smirk dropped from his face and he held his hand over the gun in the back of his jeans.

"Go get him boys."

"You want some orange juice?" Casper asked, his voice squeaking as Mandy closed the kitchen door shut with a click. In the car ride over Mandy had kissed him, told him exactly what she wanted from him, what she wanted to do. He had kissed her back confidently, had grinned and told her to keep talking, but as soon as they entered the front door he had become nervous. His cheeks were redder than she had ever seen and he was sweating, his face clammy and his eyes terrified.

"Got any Jack to mix with it?"

"Jack?" He scratched at his hair, his suit jacket riding up along with his shirt and Mandy traced her thumb along the skin that was showing. She dragged her nail along the trail of hair leading down from his belly button and Casper's breath stuttered.

"Yeah" She replied casually, despite the way her body seemed to heat up at Caspers response to her touch. "As in Daniels."

"Uh…" Casper shook his head and seemed to remember how to breathe when she moved her hand away. "No."

"They go nice together."

"Orange juice? I can't imagine it"

"It works" she shrugged, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. His eyes raked over her and he bit down on his lip.

"Sorry. Parents hide the key to the liquor cabinet."

"Orange juice is fine." Mandy smiled tightly and Casper busied himself by practically burying his head in the fridge as he searched for the OJ. Mandy could sense the nerves radiating from him as he fumbled around awkwardly in the cupboard, pulling down the glasses and almost dropping them on the counter.

She could never understand Casper – he was different to the guys she grew up with. Not just his background, his money or his education, it was something else. Guys in her neighbourhood bragged about sex, about their dick size and the notches in their bedpost. They wore their conquests like badges of honour and fronted any guy that questioned them. Whether it was false confidence or not (and in most cases it usually was, they turned from unafraid men to nervous little boys the minute she got them into bed) the guys she knew radiated it. They competed to be louder and better than any other guy they rolled with and never let their nerves show. But Casper was different. Casper never hid any part of himself. He bumbled his way through conversations, but kissed her like he had had a lifetime of experience. He wore his emotions on his face, he let his voice shake when he was nervous, he was never embarrassed about what he wanted. His confidence was quiet and un-bragging, a steady force that pushed him and guided him through uncomfortable situations. He never acted more confident than he felt, he never pretended to be anything other than what he was. He was honest.

"Sorry, I didn't know if you wanted ice or not so I just put some crushed Oh-" Casper's mouth dropped open and juice spilled over the edges of the glasses in his hands as he turned round. The uncomfortable red dress was now pooled at Mandy's feet. She slid her bra straps down her arms and unclasped it with one hand tucked coyly behind her back. Casper's nostrils flared and he let out an unintelligible noise as he looked at her.

"Do you respect me now?" Mandy asked as she ran her thumbs along the inside of her underwear, lowering them slowly. She cringed inwardly at her words. They felt forced, scripted, like she was acting out a scene in a cheesy rom-com. She had seduced guys before, but she had never had to use words. A flirtatious glance and opening her legs usually did the trick. As always with Casper, she was walking on the burning coals of new territory and her feet were unsteady and scorched, overheated. It was both somehow terrifying and completely freeing.

Casper's cheeks were a ruddy shade of red and he stood, unblinking, as if he had somehow forgotten how to move. A long beat of silence passed between them and Mandy thought maybe she had made a mistake. Her toes curled awkwardly and she paused, her thumbs still hooked inside her underwear.

Her hesitation seemed to thrust Casper back into reality. He blinked and looked up at her face, his cheeks somehow managing to turn even redder. He spilled most of the liquid from their drinks in his haste to put them back on the counter and Mandy felt her whole body relax as he turned back to face her with a wide, stunned smile. "Absolutely" he answered, holding out his hands for her and pulling her into him "100 percent." Mandy pressed her body into his, undoing his shirt as his hands moved up her back, his palms soft against her skin as he pulled her in even closer. She kissed him, open mouthed and biting, and he responded with that quiet confidence of his. No awkward bumbling, no trembling fingers. "Oh my Gah... yes. I 100 percent respect you" he breathed as he pulled away, looking at her.

Mandy smiled, looking back into that strange pool of blue and green and she kissed him even harder, ripping off the last few buttons of his shirt and tugging it off. She broke the kiss as the shirt fell to the ground, soaking up the orange juice and ice that was melting into puddles on the tiles. "Good."

Walter stormed down the hallway, his chain swinging, hitting his chest with every frustrated step. Every light in the house was on, the whole place lit up like a runway that might guide Alex home. He paced up and down, anger planted like a seed in the pit of his gut, worry and frustration watering it until it grew big and tall, shadowing everything else. He came to stand in front of Jace, who was sat on the bottom step, half curled in on himself as he alternated between glancing up at the door and scrolling through his phone.

"Anything?!" Walter demanded and Jace looked up at him.

"I don't know, dad." He answered, scratching idly at the back of his head. Walter copied the gesture, upset that his nephew was missing and frustrated that his son was handling it better than he was. "He had to walk through the South Side to get here. He sent a text saying he'd seen Milkovich with two of his sons and now I can't get a hold of him."

"This is the reason we got into this shit in the first place." Walter snapped, pacing along the floor with his hands crossed on top of his head. "those fucking Milkovich boys."

"Dad calm down" Jace said, always the voice of reason. "I'm sure he'll be fine. He'll be home any minute."

"Six hours Jace. He's been gone six hours!" Walter had always prided himself on never loosening his grip on his anger. His anger was curled tight like a fist, tucked into a part of his gut and covered like a blanket by his love for his family and his pride. He pulled the blanket back sometimes, let his anger show, but he never let someone get the better of him. He smiled in the face of somebody else's anger, he stayed calm during times of stress. He never lost face, he never let the blanket slip away and he never showed anybody the full force of his anger. His grandfather said that anger was distasteful. It was something to hide away. Y_ou only win wars with a good plan and a loving family to come home don't win wars with anger and flying fists._ And Walter had lived his entire life by those words. His grandfather was a man with patience as great as the Pope's, he never slipped, he never fumbled. He was calm and dignity personified, he was somebody to look up to. And Walter always had. But Terry Milkovich had a way of getting him riled up. Messing with him and his work was one thing, but messing with his family was another.

"Any news on my grandson?" His father called out, his husky voice yelling out from down the hallway. Caro's feet slapped against the floor as he walked towards them. The smell of his cigar trailed ahead of him, filling Walter's senses and reminding him of home and hospital beds, long nights and a stiff back in an uncomfortable chair as he waited for news of his dying mother. His father had never smoked as much as he did in those last few months. Caro had smoked cigars for as long as Walter could remember, but even with all those memories, all those years, the smell of cigars only reminded him of those few months.

"Nothing yet pop." Walter answered, letting out a long sigh as he forced himself to drop his arms from his head and stop pacing. His father would only tell him to stop anyway, would tell him that it wasn't his job to worry, his was his job to bring Alex home. Worrying was pointless, he would say, wouldn't change a thing except the lines and wrinkles it would add to your face.

"We'll hear from him soon, he'll be okay." Jace assured, foot bouncing as he jiggled it nervously.

As if on cue, a loud bang sounded from the front door. Jace jumped up fast, quicker than Walter had ever seen him move and his father pulled his cigar from his mouth and stepped forward, standing taller as he gestured for Walter to open up.

Walter walked up the three steps leading to the front door and pulled it open and his breath caught in his throat. Two police officers were stood there, Tony Markovich and John Smith, two officers that always greeted Walter with a smile and a polite hello when they passed him on the street.

This time their mouths were taut, thin lines. Their expressions grim. They were stood with Alex help up between them, his body beaten and sagging in their grip.

Blood dripped from Alex's face and splashed like ink stains on his shirt. His face was barely recognisable under the coating of claret and Walter's stomach churned at the out of focus expression on his nephew's face.

Jace ran to the front door and pulled him from Tony's grip, carrying his cousin's weight. He wiped a smear of blood from Alex's cheek only to reveal an open wound, a small flap of flesh dangling freely. Alex winced in pain, biting down on his tongue to stop from crying out.

Walter turned to look at his father and, for the first time since he was thirteen when he had come stumbling in drunk through the front door after skipping out on a family dinner, a shiver of fear ran through him at the expression on his father's face .

"This ends now." Caro said, his voice flat, before he turned on his heel and walked back down the lit up hallway.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to Beth for editing this for me.

And to Ledya who left me the most beautiful review on (for A Better Mix)– it made me so insanely happy and you put so much effort into it. There aren't enough words to thank you. I really wanted to get into the thought process behind Jack's decisions and everything that built up to the ending and i'm glad it paid off :') There was no way to reply to your review and say thank you, so I've done it here. Thank you again!

* * *

May moved into June and the sun settled itself comfortably in the sky, breathing its hot, sweltering rays over Chicago. The ground burned at bare feet, everything roasted under the unrelenting heat, cars became too hot to use unless necessary. The stifling heat had the citizens of Chicago sweating; shedding their clothes and opening their doors and windows, finding cool air in any way they could, desperate for a cold breeze or shade. The streets emptied as people flocked to nearby beaches and parks, stores sold out of sunblock as naked shoulders turned from pink to a blistering shade of red. The sun no longer kissed at their skin, but baked it. Ian had been hiding out in the store like usual, taking any shifts he could until Linda finally forced him to take a few days off. He had all but begged her to let him work, but she had insisted that she didn't need him and then Lip had asked him to babysit Liam for the day so Ian didn't have a choice but to return home.

Ian usually loved being in the store during the summer. It was the only place that he truly felt comfortable, the only place where his pale skin didn't feel like it was on fire. Linda was an Army brat, had been dragged all over America growing up, but when she mentioned home she always spoke of some town in Wyoming. She always spoke of freezing winters and rain-filled summers. The sun was a gift where she was from and she loved it, but the heat of it was something she couldn't stand. So in the store during summer there was always the mechanical whirring of fans, the steady humming of the fridges and freezers turned up to full just for the extra cold air they produced. Homeless Gary always hung around the store front during the extra hot days, traded in whatever plastic he could find in exchange for ice pops and cold beers. The store was always busy and Ian's breaks were always short, customers banging on the door trying to get in while he was trying to get off.

Summer breaks were always his favourite – he and Mickey would spend whatever time they could get alone in the back room basking in the heat of each others mouths, the taste of cherry flavoured ice pops still on each other's tongues. In previous summers it had become a game – racing to get the other off before another customer barged into the store. It was a cheap thrill, but the rush of almost getting caught was heady. It made Ian's heart race and his palms sweat and Mickey would always look like he'd just ran a marathon, a disbelieving grin on his face like he was winning. Always winning.

This summer was different though.

Mickey rarely turned up for his shifts and when he did he was exhausted and grouchy. The last time they hid out in the back of the store was a little over a week ago. Mickey had given Ian a shitty handjob with a loose fist. He couldn't concentrate, too wired up and stressed out, he even turned down Ian's offer of a blowjob. He turned up a few days later with a six pack as Ian was shutting up the store – they chased the shade all the way down to an abandoned car park, hiding out from what was left of the sun in the darkening the sky. Mickey's arms and face were red, burnt and sore looking. Tired lines and dark circles stood out like bruises under his eyes and the whites of his eyes were grey. Ian didn't ask questions, didn't pester Mickey about him not being around. He didn't tell Mickey that he missed him and he was feeling antsy with the need to get off and his hand was no longer doing it for him. He didn't tell Mickey anything, instead he just listened. He listened as Mickey confessed to him about Alex and what his father had done. How he had beaten him and hurt him and sent a message to Walter. Mickey didn't say that he thought his dad had taken it one step too far, but Ian could tell that the thought had crossed his mind. Mickey didn't say that he was worried about Walter's next move, but his hands shook with a slight tremor as he spoke and his breath hitched shakily in his throat and Ian could tell anyway that he was scared.

That was the last time Ian had seen him. Three days ago. Mickey had made up for his absence with texts, a steady stream of words about his day and what he'd been up to, random thoughts and the cravings he was having for the chicken dish from the take out place a few blocks over. Ian fought back the urge to ask him if he had managed to get any sleep yet, if he had stopped sniffing the coke he was using to keep himself awake and alert. He instead text back with complaints of his boredom, random jokes and snippets of conversation he overheard in the store.

He hadn't heard from Mickey in a few hours and he was feeling agitated. His family were downstairs and they were laughing and joking. The whole house smelt faintly of sweat and heat and the aloe vera that Debbie had been applying to Carl's shoulders and chest every few hours after he'd sizzled them falling asleep in the sun. He swore blind that he hadn't been high at the time, but Lip had found him and Little Hank out in the yard, completely passed out and half a joint burning away at Little Hank's fingertips. Ian had tried to join in with their good moods, had sat with them at dinner and laughed with them as Fiona told them about the sleazy, drunken customers at the club, but his head wasn't in it. Something was unsettling him and he couldn't figure out what it was. It ran deeper than just missing Mickey, it ran deeper than the tension in the pit of his stomach and his untouched dick. There was something niggling at him and it was keeping him on high alert, unable to concentrate on anything else.

Things had been too quiet in the few days since news spread about Alex Roselli. Nobody had heard a peep from Walter or Caro. Nobody had even heard anything from Ricky who was usually one to jump in to drama feet first, hitting out blindly before being reigned in by his family and told to be smarter about his next move. It was like that moment before a huge thunderstorm, when there's no sound, all the animals fall quiet. It was like Ian could see the grey storm clouds rolling in overhead, could feel the air change around him, but the storm hadn't hit yet. He could feel it building all around him and yet there was nothing he could do.

He was laying in his bed, thinking, over-thinking, over-analysing everything that had happened between Mickey's family and Walter's. Ian knew that Walter was smart, he wouldn't do anything that cost him his reputation or that could get him in trouble with the police. He was smart in the same way that Terry was fearless. Terry cared about his reputation just like Walter did, but he liked people to live in fear of him. He didn't care about the police or jail or being caught. He thrived on other people's fear and he exerted his power every chance he could. Ian saw that same power in Terry's children, he saw it in the way Mickey flinched when the two of them were alone. He saw it in the way Mandy guarded herself and kept a distance between her the rest of the world. Terry's power was stamped all over their neighbourhood and beating up Alex had been another exertion of it. He wanted to show Walter who he was messing with. He wanted to show Walter that he wasn't afraid of him, that it was Walter that should be afraid.

But Terry seemed to forget that Walter wasn't just another low ranking drug dealer trying to move in on his turf. He was somebody who had climbed his way to his position, had dug into his family's place in the community and had clawed his way higher and higher until he was head and shoulders above them all. Walter didn't run the streets with fear like Terry did. He run them with a warm smile and a pleasant handshake, he handled business with composure and stealth. He was like a snake – would only strike out when he felt threatened, he would coil back in warning, give you a chance to back off, and then he would arch forward and attack. He'd latch on with his sharp teeth and bite down and he wouldn't give up until there was nothing left. Walter was somebody who kept his composure, who would threaten you with charm and a smile on his face. People respected him, he had spent years earning that respect, but beneath that there was an undercurrent of fear. A sharp thread of it that kept people on their toes. It was that combination of respect and fear that had people paying their debts on time, had them working hard to stay on his good side. He may not run the streets with fear and a firm hand, but it was there. The fear was there. Everybody knew that Walter Roselli was not somebody to offend, and hurting his family was the biggest offence.

That tangle of worry that had lodged itself tightly under Ian's ribs came back with full force. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about what was to come. He knew Walter wouldn't go after Terry, not directly. Terry hadn't been man enough to go directly after Walter, so he would get his revenge in the same fashion. He thought of Mandy, walking home alone after her night shifts at the diner, unprotected and vulnerable. He thought of Mickey, pounding the streets, distracted, trying to keep his head above water. He thought of Mickey, tired, too tired to be fully aware of everything around him. He thought of Walter picking them off one at a time, a warning to Terry not to hurt him or his family again. Tit for tat. It's funny how even the scariest of men resort to underhand playground tactics when pushed into a corner.

He toyed with the idea of contacting Jace, of asking him to talk to his dad and get him to ease off of Mickey and Mandy but he knew before the thought even finished crossing his mind that he couldn't do it. If he intervened then it would put Mickey under suspicion. If Walter found out that it was Ian who had asked then he would question Ian's loyalty to Mickey, wonder why he was so quick to defend a guy that was seemingly a homophobe. Jace and Ian had fooled around a few times back when Mickey was in juvie. Walter had found out and made Jace invite Ian to dinner and he knew about them. He knew that Jace was gay and he was under the impression that Ian was his boyfriend at the time. Ian knew that asking Walter to back off Mickey would only cause trouble and it wasn't worth the risk. Because if Walter found out about Mickey then Terry would find out and Mickey would never so much as look at Ian ever again.

Ian let out a deep sigh, his whole body sagging further into the bed as he tried to shut the worrying thoughts out of his mind. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and, in a bid to distract himself, scrolled through his photos. He swiped his thumb across photos of Debbie with her bad morning hair, past photos of him with Liam on his shoulders, past one of Carl sporting a mean black eye after last months trampoline accident. There were photos of him and Lip stoned out of their minds, starfished on their backs under the sun, one of the two of them wrestling over the last cookie on the plate. There were several photos of him and Mandy pulling ugly faces while they waited for the bus the previous month. There was one of Fiona, fast asleep with a steadily building tower of items stacked on top of her. Ian laughed at the memory – she had conked out a couple of weeks back on the sofa and he and Lip decided to see how much they could pile on top of her before she woke up – they got as tall as Ian before she shifted in her sleep and the whole tower came tumbling down on top of Lip. Fiona had not been impressed.

He came to a stop when he found the photo he was looking for. It was the only photo of Mickey on his phone, but it was his favourite picture in the whole album. It had been dark out when it was taken, they were standing under a street lamp so Mickey's face was highlighted in a mixed tint of orange and a grey-green shade. One half of his face was still, glaring at Ian behind the camera while the other half of his face was blurred, stretched out where he had moved as Ian pressed the button to take the photo. His hand was close to the screen, the 'U' tattooed on his finger just visible where he had lurched forward to bat away the camera. Mickey hated the photo, had bugged Ian for days after to delete it before he got his own back and snapped random photos of Ian at unflattering angles. Pictures of him with double chins and gormless expressions had had Mickey laughing for weeks before Ian managed to sneakily delete them. Mickey had been pissed about it, but Ian had made up for it with a six pack and a dick pic.

Mickey teased him about it afterwards, had told him that he would post the picture all over town and would let everyone know that firecrotch really was a firecrotch. But Ian had the last laugh when Mandy turned up at his house a few nights later, grunting about how she had just walked in on Mickey jerking off over some picture on his phone and the whole house smelt of jizz and sweat and men. She said it was gross and told Ian that he was giving up his bed for the night and she hadn't understood when he had just laughed.

Ian wiped his thumb over the photo of Mickey before he dropped his phone to his chest and sighed once more, staring blankly up at his ceiling as the antsy feeling wormed its way inside of him once more.

#

The street was practically dead as he walked through it, the entire block quiet. The sky was finally starting to turn dark and the sun had finally given up its relentless heat for one day. His whole body ached, but he had finally gotten a decent nights sleep the night before. A solid six hours before the sun had woken him up by poking through the gaps in his blinds and lighting up his room. For the last week all he had been craving was BBQ chicken with egg fried rice and he had every intention of finally buying it once he was done with his final deals for the night. It wasn't an important deal, just an eight ball to a crackhead from over on Kenwoods, but it was enough to get him some dinner and the El back home.

He wiped his sweat-slicked fingers down the front of his sleeveless hoodie before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. It was an old make, completely beat up and covered in scratches but Mandy had given it to him for free in exchange for sorting out a creepy guy that kept hitting on her whenever she caught the bus a few months back. He didn't really have any pictures stored, but he had a wicked music collection thanks to some free downloader that Ian had set up for him, and he was beating Ian for the top score on Subway Surfers so the phone suited him just fine. He hadn't seen Ian in a while and he knew that Ian was getting pissed off with it. He never said anything, respected that Mickey had shit to do, but he could see the frustration on Ian's face whenever they finally managed to get some time alone. He could sense it in the texts Ian sent – ones that were getting more and more blunt and a lot less patient.

He was feeling it too, had woken up more than once with a raging hard on and a heat in his belly that his hand couldn't cool on it's own. He had spent today working in the store and he had found the entire day boring, dragging on and on despite how busy it was.

The first few weeks he had been so busy that he had barely thought of Ian, except for in the lulls between deals and the nights he was pacing the streets with no customers to sell to. But now it was getting to him too – he even missed the way Ian talked about things that Mickey knew nothing about, things that didn't interest him. He missed the sound of Ian's voice, the way he was always speaking even when he knew Mickey wasn't listening. He would never vocalise it, but he missed Ian's presence beside him and the breaks in the store room.

He opened up his messages and he smirked when he read the last one he received. It had come through a few hours ago during a busy hour at the shop and Mickey had forgotten to reply. It was only one word: Asshole. But it had Mickey laughing to himself like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

With thoughts of Ian, sleep and chicken dinner on his mind, Mickey wiped his thumb over the screen before locking his phone and pocketing it. He chucked his barely smoked cigarette to the ground and carried on up the street.

#

Agitation still lodged like a stone in his belly, Ian locked a chair in place under the handle of the bedroom door. He settled back on to his bed, sitting up on his elbows as he loosened the cord of his sweats. He turned on the radio of his alarm clock to drown out the faint sounds of his family downstairs. Fiona had left a few minutes ago for work and the others seemed to have settled down for a scary movie in the living room. The sounds of Liam's squealing laughter travelled up the stairs and Ian turned the volume of the radio up even louder, breaking static sounding out between the occasional notes of an old rock song that Fiona had played constantly when she was a teenager.

He slid the lock bar on his phone to reveal the picture of Mickey, the phone gripped tight in his hand. Ian knew he wasn't going to get his mind to shut off unless he found a way to relax and getting off had never let him down. He checked that the chair was securely locking the door before he began palming at his dick through his sweats, rubbing himself to full hardness with nothing but the image of Mickey and the sounds from the radio to get him going.

Irritation was still itching at his skin and he wasn't really feeling it, wasn't really in the mood, but he shoved his pants down to his ankles anyway and tried to shut everything else out of his mind.

Jacking off at this point was like greeting an old friend. Ian had been doing it for so long that it came naturally to him. He was an early starter, had even jerked off for the first time before Lip had. They had exchanged stories when they were younger and Ian admitted that he didn't really like it and didn't understand why he still found himself doing it. It was only when he got older and he found out about porn and the internet and lube that he began enjoying it. Boys would talk in the locker rooms at school, compare the hair that was growing on all of them in places that there previously was none. They would tell different horror stories they'd heard about dicks that fell off and guys that went blind and they would all talk about what worked for them. They would tease each other and pretend that they weren't all storing away new tips for later that night when they were locked away in the safety of their bedroom.

He found a familiar rhythm and tightened his fist, pumping hard and fast. He let the building pressure wash over him, draining everything else out. All his previous worries slipped away until it became just about him, his dick and the picture in his hand. He thrust his hips upwards, legs shaking as he felt all of his muscles tighten. His eyes screwed shut as his orgasm began to build and burn under his skin, making him feel alive and impatient and searching for a release. His toes curled and his head fell back against the pillow with a dull thump. He bit down on his bottom lip as he pumped his hand faster, faster, faster.

#

Mickey let out a loud groan, his breathing erratic and heavy. His eyes closed tight as he scrambled for something to grab onto. He felt the solid weight of another person against his back. He arched his hips, a rush of breath escaping him as he felt the pressure increase, a heavy weight digging into the curve of his back.

His arms gave out, unable to hold him up any longer and his face smacked against the ground, scratching against the dirt and gravel. Heavy breathing sounded in his ear, there were fists curled into the hood of his jacket.

"Well looky here, if it isn't little Mickey Milkovich." The man on top of him laughed, the sound harsh and loud in Mickey's ear, spit hitting his cheek. Mickey slammed himself up into the body on top of him, their knee digging into his back, their forearm pressed against his shoulders, forcing him down, gravel biting at his cheeks and he pushed and wriggled and arched his neck until he could put a face to the voice.

"Ricky?"

Ricky grinned down at him, his wide nostrils flaring and his eyes wild with unconcealed anger. "Ha, we uh, we caught up with our cousin."

"Shit" Mickey breathed as Ricky's knee dug harder into him, a sharp pressure heating its way up his spine. He had been so careful. In the days since his dad had dealt with Alex, Mickey had been so careful, always checking over his shoulder and staying alert just in case. But the retaliation never came and Mickey foolishly, childishly, believed that things were safe. As a kid he always believed that when his dad got serious, sending out warnings like he did with Alex, that that was the end of everything. That whoever was trying to mess with them would know that Terry was scary and powerful and should be feared and that they would be smart enough to back off. He long ago realised that that wasn't true, that people didn't just give up at the first sign of trouble. People were vicious, they fought until they had no other choice but to give up. And Mickey knew that, he knew that better than most people, but he had been sloppy. Too focused on his fucking dinner to pay attention to what was going on around him, too busy being distracted with thoughts of Ian and the days when they would spend making up for the last few weeks to hear the hurried sound of footsteps behind him. "Fuck. Get the fuck off me."

Ricky laughed again, mouth pressed practically to his ear, and Mickey tried to lift his head as he heard the shift of gravel on the ground as more people walked down the alleyway towards him.

He twisted his head until he could see two more pairs of feet. He couldn't see the faces yet, was too busy thanking whatever God existed that the dumbasses hadn't even worn steel toecaps.

Mickey grunted as Ricky moved off of him, shaking dirt off of his jeans before he bent down and hauled Mickey upright. Dirt and gravel fell from his face and he pulled and fidgeted until he was able to wrench one of his arms loose from Ricky's grip. He looked over to see Ricky's cousin Marvin and a guy he had never seen before, a big hulk of a guy. The guy was huge and he had a long, thick silver chain. He was smiling as he wrapped it around his knuckles.

Before either of them could step any closer, Mickey swung his free fist, his knuckles barely hitting the big guy's face. It was a weak shot, but he wasn't going down without some kind of fight. He threw his elbow back with as much force as he could muster, wrenching his other arm free as it collided with Ricky's nose in a satisfying crunch.

Marvin and the big guy were on him in a second and Mickey had no time to fight back as the cold metal of the chain hit his cheekbone. He sunk to his knees just as another punch caught his cheekbone.

#

Ian could still feel something niggling at his insides, a restless energy that had his knee jumping up and down repetitively. He was a lot less wound up now, his brain wasn't quite working overtime and he was grateful. He thought of texting Mickey, wondering whether he would be able to work tomorrow or if his dad would have him back out on the streets again. Linda had told Ian to take another day, but if Mickey was working Ian wouldn't mind hanging out at the store for the day.

To kill the rest of his pent up energy, he decided to watch a move. Nothing numbs the brain like mindless violence and Carl had a whole stack of torrented B-rated violent thrillers on the laptop.

He searched Carl's bed for it, rooting around in the tangle of sheets and pillows. Not there. Lip's old bed was empty, not even a sheet covering it. He lifted up Carl's mattress, his favourite hiding place. Instead of the laptop Ian found a long length of chain curled up between the wooden slats. It had dirt marks and splatters of dried on blood on it. As Ian pulled it out, hiding it under his own bed for what he was sure was the benefit of his entire neighbourhood, he wasn't sure whether to commend his brother for always being prepared in case the worst happened to the family home, or to be worried because he was pretty sure his brother was some kind of budding psychopath.

The blonde haired dolls that got electrocuted because they reminded Carl of Monica, that was fine. The neighbourhood cats that suffered for pissing on the sneakers Fiona made Carl leave outside, it wasn't encouraged but they could all handle it. Beating neighbourhood kids up with chains, not so much. The last thing the Gallagher clan needed was a brother in juvie and the social services back in their lives.

Kicking the last link of chain out of view, Ian continued his search of the room until he found the laptop, spit soaked and bitten, in Liam's bed buried under a mountain of blankets.

He bounced back down on his bed and opened up the lid, hitting play on a movie that was already loaded and halfway through.

The acting was terrible and the script even worse, but the fight sequences were great. Gritty and dirty and blood spilled out of the leading man as he got his ass kicked by a group of the bad guys.

Between bouts of fighting and more bad writing a guy appeared out of the shadows. He stood tall and proud and had an air of importance, clearly the lead villain. Ian rolled his eyes as the villain started talking with a false Italian accent, clearly a rip off of the Godfather as he spoke about disrespecting him and his family.

"Always with the mob boss" Ian sighed, "so unoriginal."

#

Hands fisted tight in his shirt, Mickey was hauled against the wall. Slinging backwards with the force, his head bounced off it and the world tilted as his vision blurred. There was an explosion of pain behind his eyelids, blinding and pulsing, and his brain seemed to rattle around in his skull. Ricky was talking to him, his voice low and laced with anger, but Mickey couldn't focus on anything he was saying. He tried to blink away the kaleidoscope of images, but nothing happened. Blood seeped from a cut in his eyebrow, trickling down the side of his face, wet and cold. His whole body felt overheated, exhausted, and he could feel as his eyes blackened and swelled.

Pain radiated from him, a throbbing heat along his body in the shape of fists and boot prints and each breath wheezed out of him, harsh and ragged. The big guy slammed him against the wall once again as Ricky gripped his chin tightly in his hands, forcing his head still.

Mickey blinked again but his vision still wouldn't clear. Black and red spots appeared before his eyes and everything turned a ghostly shade of white. An image flashed in Mickey's mind, him at five years old, laying on the fresh fallen snow, his arms and legs sweeping wide arcs to form an angel, his mother next to him giggling and happy. His head lolled forward as he tried to fight consciousness, but it was made steady by Ricky's grip. He felt blood dribble out of his mouth, trickling down on to Ricky's hand. He swallowed, the sound pulsing in his ears. He used all of his strength to force his head upright and he felt his whole body go rigid at the sight before him.

A surge of adrenaline bled through him as Walter Roselli appeared out of nowhere. Dressed as he always was, dark jeans and a black t-shirt, thick silver chain around his neck, his usual pleasant smile was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a thin line, a grim expression. Mickey grunted out a noise, his mouth unable to form words. It was a strange noise, almost inhuman but Walter didn't react. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself upright if Ricky and the big man in front of him let go, but he refused to let them see how weak he was feeling. He spat a thick mouthful of blood onto the floor by Walter's feet, feeling as more blood and spit dribbled onto his chin and stained his teeth. He smiled as coldly as he could up at Walter, his eyes still half closed,and Walter just stepped slightly further away, tilting his head at him, his face giving away nothing.

Mickey forced his eyes open past the swelling, his eyelashes sticking together with his blood and sweat. His heart tripped over itself in his chest and his muscles tightened the longer he looked up at Walter. He wrenched his head out of Ricky's grip and pinpricks of pain shot up his neck as he fought to hold his head upright.

The fear built inside of him, growing bigger with every ragged breath he took in. Mickey had always been afraid. He was afraid of everything. Of his secrets, his neighbourhood, of losing control, of his father, of it all. It hummed under his skin like an electric current, the fear pushed him forward and kept him charged and alive and on edge. Mickey used fear as his motivator, as his reason to keep pushing on. But this was different. The way Walter was looking at him, the blank, emotionless look in his face - This was the first time Mickey felt truly afraid of another person, the first time he felt too out of his depth.

Walter's eyes were on Mickey's and Mickey forced himself to stare back, refusing to look away. He knew that Walter wasn't going to kill him, but he also knew that if he didn't do something soon than he wasn't getting away from this without serious injury. It was well known that Walter never did his own dirty work. He must be seriously pissed off if he made the effort to come all the way down here. He had to distract him, had to do something, get hold of somebody.

He started talking. His voice was hoarse, his breathing laboured, but he spoke. He taunted Walter about Alex, about the things his father done to hurt him. He told Walter what his father would do to him when he found out about what was happening. He said it all with a grim smile on his face as he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pressed around blindly until he could faintly hear the dull tone of ringing.

#

The lead actor on screen swept his girlfriend off her feet and kissed her like he had been waiting all his life for it. It was dramatic and music played in high notes in the background. It was cheesy and cliché and exactly the ending that Ian had pegged from when he first started watching the film.

He shut the lid of the laptop and chucked it aside on his bed. Stretching out with a yawn he paused when he heard a buzzing coming from his bedside cabinet. He fumbled about behind him until he felt his phone at the tips of his fingers. He picked it up and pushed himself upright his free hand. The called I.D flashed with Mickey's name and Ian hesitated, feeling suddenly, strangely, self-conscious. He answered, feeling confused and happy, "you're calling?" He asked, skeptical.

He found himself smiling as he waited for Mickey's response, hoping that Mickey had cancelled his plans and was calling to ask him to meet up. But it was then that he heard muffled sounds of grunting. Somebody was shouting and Ian wasn't sure but he thought he could hear the repetitive dull thuds of a fist on flesh.

"Shit." He whispered to himself, realising what he was hearing. Walter had gotten to Mickey. He covered his mouth with his free hand, dragged it down his face and let out a breath. "Shit." He repeated before his brain kicked into gear.

Hanging up, he searched through his log of texts from Mickey until he found the one that mentioned what Mick's plans were for the day.

From: Mick

Lindas makin me stay l8. Wrkin til 8.30. gta go dugouts after to sort sum stuff out. Will see if I can get away l8r 2 c u

Yanking the chair from beneath the door handle, he threw it away from him and pulled the door open, hitting the stairs as fast as he could.

"LIP!" He called out, his voice too loud and too panicked. Lip jumped up from the sofa, his beer spilling down his vest. Debbie's head whipped round, Carl barely glanced at him, too engrossed in the TV screen. "We gotta go."

Ian barely paused on the steps to pick the bat up from it's hook. Lip didn't ask questions, just caught the bat as he chucked it over to him and raced out the front door right behind him, ignoring Debbie's stream of questions as she followed them to the front door and called out to them.

Ian could feel his heart pounding like a drum in his ears, his face pulsing like a heartbeat and his calves burning up as he and Lip ran. Lip was red faced and struggling for breath beside him but he didn't falter, his feet slapping against the pavement as he fought to keep up. Ian was slightly ahead, his legs longer and his lungs healthier.

They ran until they heard the sounds of yelling in a darkened alley. Ian heard as Mickey shouted out in pain as he was hit again and his heart dropped like a stone to his stomach. He grabbed the front of Lip's vest in his hand and pulled him over to the alley, calling out that the cops were on their way. He only realised how breathless and overheated he was when he heard the sounds of footsteps running away in the opposite direction. The alley was pitch black, encased in darkness except for one small strip of light cast down the street lamp that stood above the entrance. Ian couldn't see anything at all until Mickey fell forward, his limp body nothing but a silhouette.

"Shit, Mickey."

Blood and spit sprayed from Mickey's mouth as he spat on the floor and Ian turned to look at Lip with his eyes wide, frantic and panicking. Lip's face was calm, the only signs of worry was the twitching of his lips, but he squared his shoulders and clapped Ian on the back before heading over and bending down to Mickey as he struggled to move upright.

"You alright man?" Lip asked and Mickey let out a breathless pant.

"Fuck you, Gallagher." He bit out, no real heat behind it. His voice was rough, raw as if he had been choking. He reached up and gripped Lip's vest, screwing it up between his fingers like Ian had done just moments before. His fingers smeared blood over the grey fabric and Ian felt bile rise in his throat as the light hit Mickey's face. He made himself look away from it, focusing instead on making sure Mickey was steady on his feet. He was weak, his legs and arms trembling with the weight of him. But Ian could see as he forced himself to stay upright, breathing out short pained breaths through gritted teeth until he was stood shakily up on his own.

"Well," Lip said and Ian's eyes snapped to him. His mouth was ticked up in a smirk. "I don't think you have the ability to do that right now, but maybe later, huh?" Mickey choked out a sound that might've been a laugh if his voice didn't break off halfway through .

Seeing him sway where he stood, Ian moved to Mickey's other side. He lifted Mickey's arm over his shoulders as gently as he could, hoisting him up while Lip mirrored his actions on Mickey's other side. Ian swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth, his earlier worries feeling like minor irritations compared to the feelings that bloomed inside of him now. "You okay to walk?" he asked and Mickey let his upper body fall limp, his head dropping against Ian's shoulder. Ian moved his free hand to the bottom of Mickey's back, supporting him.

He watched Mickey's face as he fought to keep his eyes open. He kept lifting his head, trying to carry the weight of it on his own, but it kept tipping sideways. Past the blood and the bruises Ian had never seen him look so exhausted.

"Should we call V?" Lip asked, voice straining as he struggled with Mickey's weight. The alley they found Mickey in was only a fifteen minute walk from the Milkovich household, but so far it had been thirty five minutes and they were barely over halfway back.

Mickey seemed to be a bit more alert now, making noises that were close to words and walking with legs that were steadier. Ian's heart wasn't racing so fast now, was no longer a hummingbird inside of his chest, but calmness still wasn't coming easily. Mickey's breathing was still ragged, raking in painfully with every heave of his chest. Forcing them to a stop, Mickey pulled his arm from around Lip's shoulder and made an aborted movement to the side, falling against Ian as he attempted it.

"Whoa. Whoa, you okay?" Lip asked, his hand on Mickey's arm to steady him. Mickey shook him off of him and untangled himself from Ian's side.

"M'fine." He blinked, swaying for a moment before he moved across from them to lean against a wall. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hand against the underside of his nose as he sniffed back a trickle of blood. "Gimme a smoke."

Ian looked at him for a long moment as Mickey tried to take short, shallow breaths. He was holding his ribs and moving frigidly. One of his cheekbones was swollen, his lip cut open on one side, both of his eyes shut almost to a close and he was more bruised than Ian had ever seen anyone. Dried blood was crusted around his face and the fresher blood was trailing dark red paths along his skin and Ian didn't understand how he was standing, how he was even conscious. But there he was.

Seeming to sense Ian's unease, Lip stepped forward and put a cigarette to the uncut side of Mickey's mouth and lit it up. Ian couldn't look away from the deep cuts of his face, tried to imagine the scars that would form. The more he looked the more gashes and wounds seem to appear, little marks on Mickey's face, chest and arms that were hidden by blood and trails of sweat. There was a slit above his eyebrow, deep and oozing. A wound caused by something harder than a fist. Ian tried to imagine the pain, but he couldn't.

"Walter's guys?" Lip asked and Mickey nodded, but the movement seemed to hurt.

"Assholes." He grumbled. The cigarette dangled loosely from his mouth, the smoke filtering up into the sky. He didn't inhale, just let the cigarette hang.

"Anything broken?" Ian asked, finding his voice. As though seeing Mickey doing something as normal as smoking meant that he was going to be okay, this whole fucked up situation was going to be okay. Mickey blinked up at him, just staring at him for a moment, his eyes blank and not really seeming to register anything.

But then he shook his head, looking off the side as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "Fuckers didn't even crack a rib." He let out a puff of air and wiped his hand along the more swollen side of his face, getting spots of blood on his hand. He wiped it on his sweats, sniffing again as more blood dribbled out of his nose.

"Got anything to clean this up with?" he gestured to his face and Ian studied it before patting down his pockets. He pulled out an old, crumpled McDonald's napkin and chucked it to Mickey who began wiping at his face. When it didn't seem to do anything he spat on it, a red tinge to his saliva, before scrubbing slightly harder. The blood smeared around his face before it finally started to come away.

Ian looked over at Lip who let out a long breath.

#

The aches in his body had all but worked themselves out, though the pain had begun to settle in deep as he moved. His head pounded and he had to keep blinking for his vision to stay clear. The cuts didn't look as bad as they felt once he cleared most of the blood off, except for a nasty gash on his cheekbone and a deep slit in his eyebrow. Ian was quiet as he walked beside him, his face screwed up with concern. Mickey didn't really understand it, it was just a beating. A bad beating, admittedly. Even Lip seemed worried, wasn't being as much of a dick as usual. Beatings sucked, but they came with the territory.

He threw his cigarette to the ground, thinking about the chicken dinner he was missing out on. The chain had split open his eyebrow and he knew he was going to have to steal Mandy some smokes or give her some extra weed to convince her to stitch it up for him.

They were almost at his house, had just turned onto the block and thoughts of dinner and chains and too many fists printing bruises like artwork along his body flew out of his mind as thoughts of his bed and sleep and pain meds took over.

He could feel the tension from Ian beside him, knew that Ian wanted to ask a billion and one questions but tonight he was too tired. He didn't know how long Walter would have carried on for if Ian hadn't have turned up. He was thankful that he did and he would tell him so, but all he wanted now was sleep and to be so out of his face that he couldn't function properly for a week.

They were drawing closer to his house when his dad turned the corner, walking right towards them. Mickey could feel his entire body try and sag, knowing that his dad was about to kick off at the sight of his face, but he made himself stand taller. He squared his shoulders despite his aching ribs and tried to stick to the shadows as his dad approached them.

He paused, lips tightened in a grimace as he looked over Mickey's face. He pressed his thumb against Mickey's swollen cheekbone and Mickey gritted his teeth against the urge to jerk his head away. "What the fuck?!" His dad demanded and Mickey just rolled his eyes and pretended the movement didn't feel like a jack hammer was pounding behind his eyelids.

"Calm down, dad."

Terry sneered as he pushed Mickey's head away from his grip, "You let them get the better o' you, huh? What are you some kind of faggot?" He asked. His knuckles were split open, weeping with blood and swollen to match Mickey's face. He stunk of beer and cigarettes and Mickey knew that tonight was going to be long, was going to involve shots of cheap tequila and a visit from his uncle Tommy and his cousins. A celebration for the kick in they had given some poor fuck.

At his father's words, Mickey saw Lip's head shoot up, his eyes wide as he looked straight at him. It was barely a second before his eyes flitted to Ian, but just like that Mickey realised. Lip knew everything. Anger and panic shot through him, making his chest feel like a cage, too small and too tight to conceal everything inside of him. He let out a breath through his nose, a short huff like the sound a bull makes before he goes to charge. He forced himself to glance up at his dad, despite every inch of him burning with the urge not to in case his dad caught the look on Lip's face just like he had. "It's fine" He cleared his throat, willed his voice to work. "I'm fine. Nothing serious."

"Those fuckers think they're getting one over on me that easy." His dad scoffed before pushing at Mickey's shoulder, shoving him in the opposite direction of the house. "Get your brothers."

Terry walked ahead of him, cigarette to his mouth, his footsteps echoing in Mickey's ears and for a split second Mickey felt frozen to the ground. Ian moved to put a hand on his shoulder but Mickey shook it off, couldn't even bring himself to look up at him.

"Mick you don't have to-" Mickey kept his eyes on the ground as Ian once again extended his hand towards him. Mickey flinched backwards, avoiding Ian's touch, before he followed after his dad. He didn't look back.


End file.
